


Archer of Gondolin, The

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: A large part of the premise of this story may be considered AU--the rest is all canon! Also, Fellowship of the Ring, Romance, War of the Ring, but nothing too overt., there are moments of sensuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2003-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-24 18:24:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 22,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3779081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After surviving the fall of Gondolin, Ethuiel, one of the inhabitants of this once magnificent city, swears vengence against the Evil One and his servant, Sauron.  After nearly two ages in pursuit of retribution, she is still not satisfied.  The cost of her enduring hatred and sorrow is great indeed. When she meets the remainder of the Fellowship in Lothlorien it becomes clear to all, to Legolas in particular,  that the time has come for Ethuiel to heal and to mourn no more.  Recognizing good advice and abiding it, however, are two exceedingly different things.  Warning: A large part of the premise of this story may be considered AU--the rest is all canon! Also, there are moments of sensuality, but nothing too overt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The sun was beginning to fail. As it enfolded the western horizon in bright orange and gold all Lothlórien bathed in its final, reaching embers. It was February the first in the year 3019 of the Third Age, and eight of the Nine Walkers that had set out from Rivendell still tarried among the Galadrim. Within the grace of the Lady of Light all seemed deceptively peaceful. Thus, although it was tinged with the grief of their loss, their hearts were filled with quietude as they walked with Haldir by the paths of the Golden Wood.

As they passed beneath the silver boughs of the Mallorns, with golden leaves floating about their heads and feet, they spoke mirthfully among themselves and tried to lay aside their woe, if only for a little while. They were thinking of returning to the pavilion to take their supper and rest when abruptly, Haldir and Legolas halted. They held their hands aloft signaling the others to do the same. Misunderstanding the Elves' intent, the company drew their swords.

"Nay," Legolas said to them. "There is naught to fear. Only be still and listen."  
  
When all were still and silent, a lone voice and the gentle strumming of a lute could be heard, though only faintly. The company cautiously followed the music until it could be heard clearly by all.

Frodo imagined that if tears could sing, this might well be the song, and the voice they would choose. To Aragorn it was the sound that his heart had made, when he learned that his mother was dead.

They peered through the trees and there, on the bank of the Silverlode, they spied a maid. The sun's dimming rays seemed to grasp at her dark, auburn hair wishing to dance there but a moment longer. She sat with her back to them; legs crossed beneath her and sang to the river a haunting and sorrowful song.

Samwise had never heard such a voice; not even in all of his time with the Elves. First lilting and low, then ascending to a visceral and cutting flow of grief--and defiance; only to fall once more to a mournful, weeping whisper. It pierced his heart to its core and his eyes welled with tears. "Why does she grieve so? What happened to her?" he whispered to Legolas who looked as if he too wished to weep.

It was Haldir, however, who answered him. "She is one of our most beloved minstrels. She also is The Lady's champion."

"Champion!?" Boromir whispered loudly. "But she is a maid!" He looked saddened and troubled.

A half-grin emerged upon the Elf's face as he spoke to the man of Gondor. "I see," replied Haldir, "that naught escapes thy glance, Boromir. Aye, it is quite true as you say. She is a maid. But I say to you, friend, that even I would be loath and foolish beyond measure to provoke her wrath be there bow and quiver at hand; for that maid can shoot the wings from a flitting midge at two hundred paces—on a moonless night."

Aragorn looked at her intently, for although he had not yet met her, he now knew of whom the Elf spoke. Haldir continued in earnest. "She is Ethuiel, daughter of Ecthelion. The lament she sings is to her father and of the fall of Gondolin." No futher explanation was necessary. This company knew that story only too well and thus they all understood her anguish and grieved for her, each in his own way.

Legolas closed his eyes and leaned on Haldir. Nothing could now hide his sorrow, for he had been there on that horrific night when all the city awaited the Gates of Summer, but in their stead received fire and death at the hands of Morgoth's hordes. He had witnessed the valiance of Ecthelion and had watched his fall into the deep basin of the palace, following Gothmog, captain of the balrogs, whom he had slain. His thoughts turned once more to Gandalf and he reeled with the memory.

It seemed to Legolas that after nearly two ages had past, the fall of Gondolin was again about him. He could feel the heat of the drakes' breath; hear the wails of sorrow and death and the blowing of horns in his ears. Oh! The panic and dread! The hideous beasts hewing down women, running with babes in their arms! Young maidens being dragged with chains about their throats into enthrallment, and naught to be done but protect those who were near at hand, and run.

It had been Legolas who had lead the few surviving Gondothlim across the pass of Crishorn in the terrible night, for none could see in the darkness as could he. He had wandered with them for many months in the wilderness in fear and despair.

He remembered Ethuiel as she was then. A maiden-child of no more than nine years, and even then tiny for her age. He recalled that a woman of her household had carried her through the Secret Way of Escape and bore her all through the vale and the mountains, for Ethuiel's mother and father had perished. She very nearly met her end there as well.

Although he had not witnessed it, Legolas had heard of the ordeal. She had been badly burned on the foot, lashed by the balrog's whip. There she fell in the street at the feet of a hulking orc. The monster swiftly snatched the terror-stricken child up by her braided hair, but as he swung his blade at her neck, her mother, who was but a step from her, sprang at the beast and pulled the child backward. Thus, when the blade fell it hewed away the braid, but spared the child. The frantic woman flew with her child through the city, but alas, fell with an orc’s dart in her back. It was then that Brynowen had lifted Ethuiel and made at last to Idril's secret escape.

Legolas remembered vividly what had taken place when Ethuiel was told of her father's fall. All had expected to comfort a wailing child; newly orphaned and utterly alone. She, however, did not outwardly break.

She bit back so hard on her crushing despair that she swallowed it whole. In only a matter of moments the tears that begged to escape from behind her eyes were squeezed into salt and thus transformed her sorrow into a smoldering hatred and malice that would consume her for an age. Ethuiel hoisted herself upon a rock, now immune to the searing pain in her foot. There before the company, this tiny maiden-child with shorn head, in the tatters of her raiment and covered with the soot of the most rabid filth ever before seen in Middle Earth, stood and swore an Oath. "I shall become a great warrior." she said. "An archer I shall be and upon my bow shall be my father's name drawn in silver and my mother's beside his in gold. And every dart in my quiver shall bear the words 'For Gondolin'. I shall seek the wicked creatures that did this deed where so ever they may go. To their very dens I shall seek them if I must. And if any one of them should ever again look upon my brow, he will have looked his last in Middle Earth; or will have I. The Archer of Gondolin will be their terror and their bane. I swear this before Elbereth Gilthoniel and I shall NEVER cease!"

Such words from the mouth of a child would have been heard with pity and not considered wholly seriously, for all those about her understood her despair. There was, however, such a deadly seriousness in her face and the malicious intent that flashed in her bright, Elven eyes shone not of a wounded foundling, but of one far into adulthood and with a cold hatred, more intense that any mere child could know. Thus, all those refugees of Gondolin and the Encircling Mountains heard that Oath--and all who heard believed.  
***  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After surviving the fall of Gondolin, Ethuiel, one of the inhabitants of this once magnificent city, swears vengence against the Evil One and his servant, Sauron. After nearly two ages in pursuit of retribution, she is still not satisfied. The cost of her enduring hatred and sorrow is great indeed. When she meets the remainder of the Fellowship in Lothlorien it becomes clear to all, to Legolas in particular, that the time has come for Ethuiel to heal and to mourn no more. Recognizing good advice and abiding it, however, are two exceedingly different things. Warning: A large part of the premise of this story may be considered AU--the rest is all canon! Also, there are moments of sensuality, but nothing too overt.

To that promise she held as the dying cling to dissolving memories. Ethuiel began her long study of the art of archery that very day. Legolas remembered that during their sad journey she was full to the eyes with questions regarding the ways in which an archer might be most effective in myriad circumstances. Usually her queries were direct and astute, but every now and again a nine-year-old little elf would pop out of her head and ask some outlandish question.

Once she had asked him, "What if you were waylaid by Orcs and with them was an Ent whom they had captured and bewitched with a evil spell, thus changing him into an evil Ent who growled fiercely and frothed about the mouth and said, "I want Elf meat!’” (She said this in what she described as her 'very most scary evil Ent voice'.) "Well," she continued and opened her eyes as wide as the lids would allow and poked her face very close to his. "THEN WHAT WOULD YOU DO?"

He had replied in his own 'very most scary evil Ent voice,' "Then my dear, I would be Ent food. And a most excellent fertilizer if I may say so myself!" Ethuiel had rolled upon the ground in a fit of giggles.

It would be sound to believe that Legolas' heart might have been gladdened at seeing her merriment, but it was not so. It was just the contrary indeed. At such moments he felt the wrath run all the hotter in his veins, for she was truly a dear, sweet little maiden. She was not born to walk in sorrow. Neither did her fair mother give her birth that she might wander in rags and bear hate upon her lovely brow. Her brow was meant to bear a crown and she should have walked in peace through fair Gondolin.

But alas, it was not to become, for Ethuiel sat within the boarders of Lothlórien, the most tranquil and pleasing land in Middle Earth, in seemingly inconsolable grief. Legolas was summoned from his memory by the final lyric of the song:

Gondolin is lost, Gondolin has fallen  
sundered are we beyond The End  
Gondolin is gone and hears not my calling.  
Rest your head lightly now,  
upon Ecthelion’s breast.

She laid the lute beside her, drew up the hood of her gray cloak and rested her head upon her knees. Merry looked at her unshod foot and saw there a long, scarlet scar that stretched from the smallest toe to the ankle and up past where her cloak hung about her legs. He felt ill with pity. He then turned to the company and made a suggestion. "Maybe we should say something to her. She's so sad; it breaks the heart. There must be something we can do to bring her around."

Pippin quickly and hardily agreed. "Yes Merry! That's a good lad! Perhaps she might come with us and take some wine and be cheered a bit--verily."

Before anyone could stop him, Pippin called out to her. "Hullo there! Ethuiel, would you care to come and have sup--" Aragorn stopped his mouth with his hand. Legolas stood stone still. He hoped in his heart that she would at least turn to acknowledge the call, for he dearly wished to see her face again.

He had become so fond of her in that time of weary wandering that when the refugees finally parted to their separate paths, he had proposed to take the orphan Ethuiel and care for her as his own. But Brynowen, who had been her mother’s dearest friend, could not bear to be parted from her. And so Legolas had relented. How she had come to Lothlórien and also had become the Lady Galadriel’s champion, he knew not. Although he had thought of her often through the ages, he never expected to find her again in Middle Earth. It had always been his hope that Brynowen had brought her over the Sea and that they might meet again in the majesty of Eressëa.

Ethuiel raised her head as if she might turn, but at that same moment a low and subtle voice came to them from behind. "The sorrow of a daughter for a fallen father is a most doleful, and private matter about which none of you shall ever know." It was Galadriel. She stood in glowing white, gazing at the heartbroken maid with an expression of love and compassion.

Gimli stepped forward and bowed so low before The Lady that when finally he stood erect, his beard was a mesh of golden leaves. Legolas managed a smile to himself.

"Lady," Gimli said, "Though you speak the truth, as is always your wont, I am sick to the tip of my beard for the sorrow of this creature. Does poor Ethuiel find ever any relief from despondency? Is there naught we might do to ease her suffering?"

"The answer is nay to both of your questions Gimli," Galadriel replied. "Although her despair is not always so thick a mask as you see it now. It is, at some moments, but a sheer veil of mist about her eyes. Yet sadly, it is an ever-present mark as the one that stains her poor foot and fair leg. I am certain that it has escaped the notice of none here."

They turned to see the hooded figure slipping on silver-gray shoes, and there they saw that the lash, indeed, climbed nearly up to her knee.

"That wound was given her by the balrog’s whip. There it rises and falls with the ebb and flow of her torment and the hatred she bears for the ones that took from her Gondolin, and slew her father and her beloved mother." Galadriel gazed up into the west. "So kind and amusing was Silriel--and so fair." She said aloud though speaking to none.

After a moment she turned back toward the company. There she saw standing before her a rather pale and horror-stricken Dwarf. Gimli's pity touched her most deeply. She felt that she had perhaps underestimated the capacity of the Dwarves for the concerns of others. "Let us walk together. I will tell you all that you wish to know, but let us leave Ethuiel to her thoughts. I think she does not seek the comfort of counsel or company just yet." She turned and started northward toward Caras Galadon.

All but Legolas followed. He stood for a moment, longing for her to turn at last and allow him to look on her. But alas, she slowly rose, gathered her lute and her bow and quiver, slung them across her back and drifted into the wood. At length Legolas turned and followed the company.

As he approached, The Lady looked to him and spoke. "Fear not, Legolas Greenleaf. I believe that you will look on her face again at last, ere you leave Lothlórien."

Frodo looked both confused and fascinated. "Do you know her, Legolas?" he asked.

All present anxiously awaited his reply. Galadriel looked on but said nothing. After a long silence he answered. "Aye Frodo. I knew her once. But it was a long--long time ago."

The company continued on toward the city and Galadriel told what she knew. "Ethuiel has only just returned hither this day from an errand upon which I sent her in Rivendell some weeks ago. She tarried there for a short time with Elrond and the Lady of Rivendell whose friendship to her is especially dear." Galadriel stared into the wood and once again thought aloud. "Perhaps I should send for her now that she might soothe the anguish of a cherished friend." As she said this she turned her eyes to Aragorn. He stared back at her with an expression of longing and reverence.

Galadriel continued, "Understand that she has known mere hours of Gandalf's fall." The company peered into the trees. "The news and the way of it have caused the birth of a new grief that springs forth to draw the old grief near." The final ribbons of sunlight skipped along the golden leaves, dwindled, and were gone. They walked the rest of the way in silence.  
***  



	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After surviving the fall of Gondolin, Ethuiel, one of the inhabitants of this once magnificent city, swears vengence against the Evil One and his servant, Sauron. After nearly two ages in pursuit of retribution, she is still not satisfied. The cost of her enduring hatred and sorrow is great indeed. When she meets the remainder of the Fellowship in Lothlorien it becomes clear to all, to Legolas in particular, that the time has come for Ethuiel to heal and to mourn no more. Recognizing good advice and abiding it, however, are two exceedingly different things. Warning: A large part of the premise of this story may be considered AU--the rest is all canon! Also, there are moments of sensuality, but nothing too overt.

They said little when they took their supper. Although the fare was kingly and plentiful, none could savor it, for the bitterness of sorrow had found their tongues. The grave sorrow of Ethuiel's voice had drawn many to unhappy memories for more than six thousand years. None, though, could help but listen. For couched between the tears that the anguished shed, are memories of the joy they owned before Fate took her ill turn. Thus, those sweet and mournful melodies that floated from Ethuiel's throat allowed the listener a quiet moment with sundered friends, and dearest dead.

The effect was not lost on the Company from Rivendell. Sam grappled in his mind with the notion that anyone or anything might want to cause harm to a creature that could make such music. The thought churned round in his mind and he could not make it be still. He began to conceive of his peril; and the peril of all Middle Earth.

That night, their rest was hindered by fitful, wakening dreams; none more so than Legolas who at last rose and made his way into the wood among the _flets_ where the Galadrim dwelt. The air was crisp and all was still and quiet, save the gentle song of the Silverlode in the distance. As he wandered Legolas began humming to himself the song of Ethuiel that he had heard by the river. He breathed the air deeply and admired the Mallorns, and watched the dancing of twinkling lights among the _flets_.

Unexpectedly, a ladder fell before him from a nearby loft. His eyes darted upward to see who would descend. He waited, but no one appeared. After a brief time a soft and alluring voice came from above. _"Minno Legolas. Ned i gwaith tirn nin."_ The heart of the Elf skipped its rhythm at hearing that voice speak his own name. He hesitated. Why he did so, he knew not. Finally he grasped the silver rungs and ascended lithely to the top.

He entered and looked about him. The light was dim but it was playing in Ethuiel's long hair as it hung loosely about her shoulders. She again stood with her back to him leaning her hands on a small table in a corner of the room. He gazed at her, trying to will her to turn. After quite some time he asked, "Why do you hide yourself from me lady?" He waited. She did not speak. "What is her thought?" he asked himself. "Why does she not turn or speak? It is possible that she is cross."

He had never again sought her after their separation. He understood why such a thing might vex her. They had grown close. She had come to rely upon him greatly, and when the time came for them to part at last, she had choked on her tears. He too had choked on his own at that parting. That he did not seek her out was not for lack of devotion to her, but because leaving her at the first had been anguish enough for them both. He knew that Brynowen would care for her well and could not do without her. He oft thought, however, of what his life might be like, and what she might be like, had he been allowed to keep her. As the years drew on and the Shadow grew, he began only to think of her living among the Valar in the Undying Lands; happy and safe. They would meet again in time, he was certain.

"For my part I still count you a friend," he said, "How ever much time may have past between us is of no matter to me. If it is a vexation to you, please accept my apology and let us resume where we were sundered."

He waited still, but she made no movement and no sound. Legolas was becoming irritated. He thought, "Did she merely wish to let me come to her so that I might feel a rogue and a pest?" He spoke again. "Do you then refuse my plea for forgiveness?" He saw that she was gripping hard at the edges of the table and her hands were a cold white. "Will you not even speak to me? Ethuiel!" He made a movement toward her, but she did not stir. His irritation grew to anger and he felt that he must depart lest he shake her. As he turned to go he kicked the floor of the flet and said to her, "Why you condescended to lower that ladder I know not. Be sure to draw it up again once I have gone. There are many Orcs about now and--" he stopped short, but then continued in a scathing tone. "But perhaps you would prefer to speak with them!" As soon as the words left his mouth he regretted them. He softened and spoke once more. "Draw the ladder up again once I am gone. Please Ethuiel." Then quietly he turned and walked toward the opening.

As he placed his foot on the ladder he heard a stifled sob. He glanced up to see that her head was buried in her hands; she was weeping bitterly. He felt like a blackguard and that his heart might break. He raced to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. She reached up, placing one hand upon his. "Please forgive me Ethuiel," he whispered. "I did not mean that terrible thing I said to you. Only why will you not allow me to look on you, or at the least, tell me why you will not?"

At last she spoke, though her voice was tearful. "I fear for you to see me as I am. You may find that long years spent in sorrow and the pursuit of vindication have not been kind to my face." She bowed her head low. "When I let down the ladder, I had every intention of greeting you kindly. My fear, however, of how you might receive me; how you might respond to what I have become, overpowered me at the last and I could not face you tearlessly. I then thought not to face you at all. I am sorry, Legolas; but I am afraid."

Gently he turned her to him, lifting her bowed head with his hand beneath her chin. She raised her eyes to meet his. Once again Legolas' heart skipped its rhythm when at last he beheld her. They looked long on one another.

Her face, though tear-stained and full of torment was, to his eyes, more lovely than the wood in spring. Her skin was fair and smooth and her brow, dark and shapely. She had a proud jaw that ended in a delicate chin and a full, gainly mouth. Her eyes, though far wiser for their ages, were just as he had remembered them; shaped as upturned almonds, gray with flecks of amber and gold. He thought to himself, "Nay. Even the wood cannot approach her beauty, not within a hundred leagues."

He found himself wishing to carry her off and hide her somewhere that the Shadow could never find her. He wished more than ever he had before to destroy the Dark Lord and his armies, so that he might retrieve her from this hiding place. Then he would wrap her in silver and diamonds, which had been the enchantment of her long-fallen Household. She was the only heir to the House of the Fountain where Ecthelion had been the lord, and if Legolas Greenleaf had his wish, that house would be restored and she would wear its crown.

He pondered his first meeting with the Lady. She had checked him meticulously in regard to his dedication to The Quest. In his mind he heard her offer him whatever he might desire in exchange for the One Ring if he would but take it from its bearer and give it to her. His reply had been that his One Desire was to obliterate the Dark One and his vile masses. Thus, the destruction of the Ring was the only ambition or want that could, for him, be satisfied. At that time his answer had been the truth. If it had been otherwise Galadriel would surely have been acutely aware. He had passed her trial with ease. Now he wondered: If the same test were put to him yet again, would he fare as well?

He began to wipe her tears away with his fingertips. When he caught a drop that had fallen upon her lower lip she clasped his hand and kissed it tenderly. Legolas was overwrought with the desire to kiss her. As he approached, her tears continued to fall as if ice were melting behind her brilliant eyes. At the last his sympathy overbore his passion and, instead of her lovely mouth, he found her eyes and her brow with his lips and kissed them softly until the tears ceased to flow. He then took her in his arms in a gentle embrace. She raised her cheek and rested it upon his breast as he smoothed her silken hair in his hands.

At length he took her by the hand and led her to an area where soft mats and pillows were laid out as a couch. There they sat and spoke lightly of ages past and quietly sang songs that were remembered to them. Legolas recollected an odd little verse that had once brought giggles to the children of Gondolin.

 

 

A clever little maid of Gondolin  
strayed from her house in the night.  
Though she'd been told to do not so,  
the air was so fragrant  
and the Stars were so bright!

Along the white paths she wandered,  
at last she chanced upon a silvery stream.  
and there in the clover spied a beryl;  
Oh! How it did glitter and gleam!

There did she reach with her clever little palm,  
and scooped the gem up in her hand,  
"My!" she thought, "Why I must be  
The luckiest little maid in the land!"

But as she stood and admired her find,  
someone drew near in the dark--from behind.

"Boo!" the voice boomed in her clever little ear,  
she started and jumped with a scream;  
and out of her hand popped the bauble,  
which was carried away by the stream.

As she wheeled round to see who was near  
tears sprang from her bright Elven eyes.  
To her dismay she looked but saw naught  
But a tiny white mouse that stood by.

"I am sorry my dear." the mouse said at last  
"I did not wish to cause you to fret.  
Please accept my apologies,  
my condolences and heartfelt regret."

Upon those words her tears were dried,  
and across her face grew a sly little smile.  
For as the story goes 'tis said,  
she was a very clever little child.

"Forgiveness is yours dear friend." she said.  
Now you shall have me and I shall have you.  
For a talking mouse is worth more that a beryl;  
more, I should think, than two!"

 

 

Ethuiel laughed aloud at hearing that poem from her few happy days and turned her smiling face to his. Legolas' heart sang.

He scooped her up and swung her about as he had done when she was a child. Her giggle was nearly the same. As he set her gently back in her place, her gown drifted up along her calf. He noticed, as Galadriel had said, that the scar had indeed fallen to just below her ankle. He returned to his seat feeling rather pleased with himself. "What of Brynowen?" he asked. "Surely she is still with you."

Ethuiel’s eyes grew a little sadder. "She was with me long. Brynowen cared for me well and loved me as I was her own. She consented to my wishes and allowed me to study my art and keep my Oath, though it pained her greatly. She wed Galadil of the House of the Harp when I was grown and alas, they went together over the Sea. That I would not go with her nearly broke her into pieces. But I will not leave Middle Earth until vengeance is mine."

Both were silent for a moment. Legolas finally asked, "When will that be? The Evil One is thrown to the Abyss and it was he who dealt the miserable blow."

"Aye Legolas. And for that I praise the Valar every day that I live. His servant, however, lingers. And while he does, I shall have no peace. But if I have no peace, neither shall the abominable creatures that he looses upon us all. I seek them relentlessly, as you well know. It is the one true Joy that I can feel within." Her eyes flashed with delight, but the scar throbbed.

Legolas attempted to allay her temper. "So then tell me _lissier_ , what count can you boast?" He asked with a suppressed grin.

"Why Legolas Greenleaf!" she cried with a feigned look of indignation, "A lady never kills and tells!" She tossed her head haughtily and turned away, trying not to laugh at her own joke.

He threw his head back and laughed. "Very amusing, my dearest. How many?"

She peered back into his eyes, but the smile had left her face. "Many." she said. "A great--great many."

She stopped for a moment but then added, "They must breed as do hares." She looked away and it seemed to Legolas that she might be purring.

The truth was that she had not kept count. She thought such things tedious. The Orcs, however, knew that it was many thousands. They knew who was behind the deed when they pulled from one of their fallen brothers an arrow that read "For Gondolin". Not that they could read it but they had been told by Others the meaning of the script. When they did make such finds it filled them with doubt and dread.

Only Shelob was a greater fear among them than The Archer of Gondolin. Greater not because Shelob killed more, but because she was cruel and devoured her prey with slow delight. If The Archer found you, at least it was quickly over. The name was a curse among them, used often in their quarreling. "To you too! And may you wake with The Archer's dart in your throat," one might say to another or, "Yes, that's right! And we’ll all be lucky if The Archer is perched above your ditch as you slink into it!" A great many it was indeed.

***

 

Authors Notes:

Here are the translations of the dialogue spoken in Sindarian:

_"Minno Legolas. Ned i gwaith trin nin."_ \- "Enter Legolas. My guardian in the wilderness."

_lissier_ \- Sweet one


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After surviving the fall of Gondolin, Ethuiel, one of the inhabitants of this once magnificent city, swears vengence against the Evil One and his servant, Sauron. After nearly two ages in pursuit of retribution, she is still not satisfied. The cost of her enduring hatred and sorrow is great indeed. When she meets the remainder of the Fellowship in Lothlorien it becomes clear to all, to Legolas in particular, that the time has come for Ethuiel to heal and to mourn no more. Recognizing good advice and abiding it, however, are two exceedingly different things. Warning: A large part of the premise of this story may be considered AU--the rest is all canon! Also, there are moments of sensuality, but nothing too overt.

Legolas and Ethuiel relaxed for a time on the mats, each lost in thought and she rested her head upon his chest, listening to his heart beating. "The heart is a truly wondrous thing, is it not, Legolas?" she said softly, "It simply beats on and on playing its pretty little tune no matter what we might carry there. Alas for Men, it can be their bane, but for us, it matters not. And stranger yet is that it can be at one moment filled to overflow with sweetness and love that one believes could never go, and in the next be drained dry and replenished with hatred and despair, that _will_ never go."

Legolas raised her chin to look into her eyes. "If it could be emptied yet again and if I could place there but a tenth of what my heart holds for you, ours would be a love greater than songs could tell of, unless of course the songs were composed by you _lissier_. Even for you it would make a great task."

"I would that it could be done," she answered. "And I would compose such music to express my love and my joy, that it would spread them hither and thither and cause the deserts to bloom and little children to grow an inch where they stood," she said laughingly, but after a moment she grew shadowy once more. "But sadly, it shall not be." she sighed.

Legolas' face darkened. "Do you tell me then that you cannot ever love me? If that is so then I am fooled, or merely a fool; for to me, the desire in your eyes was clear."

She shifted her self about so that she could look at him strait on then placed her face next to his so that she could speak into his ear. "You are no fool Legolas Greenleaf." she whispered and kissed him gently, but seductively on the lobe. He felt it course through him like a shock to his feet. _"A lissi,"_ she whispered again. When she looked on him he saw a smoldering want in her eyes. He was nearly undone. "My desire for you is as great as it is old." she said with her lips nearly touching his.

She sat up slowly and a nostalgic grin came over her face. "Oh Legolas, you cannot even know. I desired you before I knew what desire was. I think I was a child of perhaps five when I first saw you and knew only that I did not care to look on anything else if you were near. By the time I reached seven I would stare out of my window and see you standing in front of the House of the Tree. I would gaze on you for hours if permitted. It often got to a point when my eyes would ache and burn, for if you were in sight for a long period of time, I refused to blink." she chuckled to herself. "I was afraid that I might miss something; a movement, a smile, a laugh. Oh Elbereth! I never would have got over it had I missed a laugh!

"On one occasion, I recall, I believe it was the Festival of the Guard, there was a maid who was speaking to you for what I felt was far too lengthy a time. I must have been boring a hole through her, for my mother noticed and said, 'Do not stare so Ethuiel. If you desire such a gown, I shall make one for you!' Had she only known of my true desire, ha! I tell you that maid could have counted herself lucky that I was not yet acquainted with bow and arrow, for I would have shot her dead where she stood!"

They were both laughing rather hardily and she placed her hand on her forehead and turned away.

Legolas, beaming cried, “Oh do go on, _lissier_!"

Ethuiel faced him again and told him thus, "I confessed it to my mother the next day. I went to her and said, 'Mother, when I am grown, I wish to wed Legolas Greenleaf of the House of the Tree.' Do you know what that woman did?" He shook his head. "She said, 'Very well little one. Shall we go and ask him now?' I thought I would turn to stone!" They laughed long at this.

At length he said, "I remember your mother well. She had a great wit and was always quite droll." Ethuiel nodded in agreement.

In a moment she said, "I loved you then Legolas. It was a child's love, but love nevertheless, and I believe now that it would have grown to that of a woman. Had Gondolin stood, perhaps I would have made you a bride."

Legolas looked bewildered and hurt. "Is it time that killed that love that it cannot be revived?"

She sat up straight and looked at him gravely. "If any love could pass the rocks and razors that bar my heart, that love would be yours alone. I do not say that I cannot love _you_. I say that I cannot love. And joy too is estranged from me. Even in Lórien they elude me. Why do you think that I sought to come and dwell hither? It was my hope that Galadriel, the Lady of Light, could heal me of my pain, and return what was lost to me. Alas, it seems that even Galadriel cannot restore what is dead.

"My ability to love, I think, died in the street with a poisoned dart in her back; and my facility for joy lays breathless at the bottom of a well with a balrog beneath him."

She got up from the couch and began clutching at her skirts and pacing the floor. The cruel memories of all that had befallen her flooded her mind in a torrent of blood-lust and loss. Behind her eyes flashed the vision of her mother's last moments; sharp and vicious; gasping in agony, and screaming for someone to save her child with her last breath. The last thing she saw as she was being swept away from the carnage was her mother's lifeless body being trampled and kicked by beasts of unimaginable hideousness and finally being set aflame to burn in the street.

Hanging her head to hide her face, Ethuiel began to cry. She whispered through her tears. "Oh, Silriel were your wit not so sharp and your face not so fair might I have loved again though you could not? Could my eyes see aught else but your tears?" She stormed about the floor at a frenetic pace. She thought of the father who did naught but laugh and sing in her presence, falling, falling, burning as he went down. It struck her as a falling tower of dread. "Oh, Ecthelion," she cried out, "Mightiest of Elves with gentlest hand! Were your voice not so melodious could mine sing of joy once yours was silenced?" Legolas watched the lash grow in horror. "And now Gandalf the Grey shares my father’s fate." Ethuiel turned and pointed her finger at Legolas. "And you left him to it!" The scar opened and began to bleed out. "How could you leave him Legolas? How could you do it? Why, why?" She was trembling with fury. He sat spellbound with wide eyes and mouth agape. She crumpled to the floor in a sobbing heap.

Legolas broke from his trance and rushed to where she lay. He lifted her from the floor and brought her to her bed. He laid her down and went quickly to fetch water and bindings to cleanse and dress the wound. When he returned he found that she was quiet and pensive. He sat down beside her and examined her foot and leg. "Elbereth Gilthoniel." he muttered. The blood had slowed to a trickle, but it looked exceedingly painful. She did not wince though when he began to clean and wrap it. As he was going about it, she spoke. "Forgive me Legolas. I did not mean that terrible thing I said to you." There was a shadow of a smile on her face and she batted her eyelashes at him. He mirrored her and wrapped his arms about her tightly.

After a time Legolas spoke again. "Although I do not wish to rouse you further tonight, I do wish to speak with you at greater length in regard to your 'inability to love or feel joy' as you say. How do you believe such a thing of yourself, Ethuiel? Clearly, your concern for Gandalf and for all Middle Earth is great, and yet you say you do not love. You are, I am told, The Lady’s champion. Surely one could not hold an office of such import who did not possess a great love for her. How do you know that your love is dead, especially when it is unmistakable that so many love you?"

She looked at him with a puzzled expression trying to find a way to make him grasp her plight. Finally she said, “Have you ever got a burn Legolas?"

He looked then equally confounded. "Well yes I am sure I have on occasion got a slight burn."

"Are you burning now?"

"Don't toy with me woman!" he said with a smile. "Certainly I am not burning now!"

"How do you know?"

"Well, I know it very plainly for I remember how it felt."

As he said it, he understood her meaning. There was a little smirk on her face. "I too remember how it felt. It is precisely how I know that I do not feel it now; for anything.

"As for your concern with my office," she continued, "the Lady chose wisely though she knows I do not love her. She knows that I would protect her viciously and to the end as a tigress protects her cubs. But also she knows that such ferocity would be elicited by hatred of them as opposed to love of her. She sees my seething wrath and knows its efficaciousness." She paused and sighed deeply. "But know also that neither do I say that I do not care for my Lady. I feel more fondness for her and for her children than do I for any others who live--save you _vana edhel_." She paused and smiled at him, but continued with a haunted face. "And yet, despite my lack, she loves me most dearly. She tells this to me often, and shows it to me always. Ah, but if I could love as does Galadriel. I covet the way she loves; her lord, her children, the land and her people--all. I fear that when she does at last sail over the Sea, she will take fully half of the love in Middle Earth with her. I hope what she leaves will be enough. I do care, Legolas; but for me--there are limits."

He sighed heavily, but embraced her and kissed her cheek. He wished to speak further on the matter, but saw in her eyes that she was weary. She had also given him a good scare with that leg, and he did not wish to relive the episode a second time that evening--or any if it could be avoided. He chose not to risk inciting her; at least not until the light of day was about them. "I believe that you may yet be healed, Ethuiel," he said soothingly, "but I will not press the matter further this night."

She began to climb out of the bed saying that she was thirsty. Legolas stopped her and said that he would fetch some water, or wine, or _miruvour_ \--or an Orc's head on a stick if she were hungry as well. She declined explaining that she had taken her supper earlier and that some water would suffice, but perhaps another time.  
***

 

 

Translations:

_vana edhel_ \- It literally translates to "fair elf", but I like to think of it as "pretty boy". :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After surviving the fall of Gondolin, Ethuiel, one of the inhabitants of this once magnificent city, swears vengence against the Evil One and his servant, Sauron. After nearly two ages in pursuit of retribution, she is still not satisfied. The cost of her enduring hatred and sorrow is great indeed. When she meets the remainder of the Fellowship in Lothlorien it becomes clear to all, to Legolas in particular, that the time has come for Ethuiel to heal and to mourn no more. Recognizing good advice and abiding it, however, are two exceedingly different things. Warning: A large part of the premise of this story may be considered AU--the rest is all canon! Also, there are moments of sensuality, but nothing too overt.

As he left the bedroom he heard the grumbling of a sour and callused voice. It was somewhat far off and faint, but to his Elven ears the voice was unmistakable. The Orcs were once again attempting to enter Lothlórien. He cursed himself for tempting the Fates with that quip. Suddenly he came to a sickening realization: He had himself, forgotten to draw up the ladder. He sprinted to the opening of the loft and looked out. Mercifully, he saw nothing near and he turned to retrieve his bow and quiver so that he could pursue and put an end to it.

He was about to call for Ethuiel to come and draw up the ladder once he was down. As he turned to do so, he saw that she was already behind him, wearing her cloak with her gear on her back and she was taking a long draught on a cup of water.

"Well, we are not likely to dispatch him from here." she said with a laugh in her eyes. "I suppose we could try making some dreadful faces at him, but I doubt if he would spy us and be miffed."

Legolas failed to see the humor and shook his head emphatically. "I will go Ethuiel. Please, please do not quarrel with me on it. DRAW UP THE LADDER WHEN I AM DOWN!"

She stared at him as if he had gone mad. "You are keeping me from my sworn duty and my Oath, Legolas. The longer we quarrel on it, the closer he gets to MY LADY! Where there is one, there is a pack. I would sooner shoot you myself than allow you to go alone. There must be a breech in the northern guard. I pray that none of our own have paid for it with their lives." She drew up her hood and with that she was down the ladder and off. All he could do was follow.

_"Yrch!"_ she said when he caught up to her. "He is a nasty one! I can smell him from here! Can you?" He confessed that he could not. He could smell the trees and the back of Ethuiel's neck. As she tracked the fiend he kept a keen watch for others who might be close but silent--and perhaps better kempt. He could not help himself from admiring the beauty that encircled him. The sky was pitch and the stars were miraculous; glancing off of the silver boughs and branches of the mallorns; causing the leaves to twinkle as golden mirrors of themselves.

His mind wandered to others who had fallen in love in Lothlórien. There was Nimrodel and Amroth. Their end had not been a happy one. Of course there was Arwen and Aragorn, and the outcome of their tale had yet to be seen. He thought of what it might be like to stay and be in love at last in the Golden Wood; to wed upon Cerin Amroth, and lay with Ethuiel among the _elanor_ and _niphredil_.

He was called back from his musings when she turned to signal him that their prey was near. His thought now turned to what a dark and dangerous place Middle Earth had become. He thought of Frodo and The Quest. He did not think it likely that any of them would return to reap the bliss or share in the torment, whatever the outcome. Legolas realized that his tale of love would, in all probability, be a short and joyless one. Despite its glory and grace, he decided that Lothlórien was perhaps not a good place in which to fall in love.

He approached Ethuiel and she pointed into the wood. There at nearly forty paces the orc was edging through the trees, and would have been quite silent had he not intermittently muttered to himself. "Slaves!" he grumbled, "They're too spineless to do their jobs on the scout, so who gets stuck with it? Rachmat, that's who, Well those lads are gonna pay when..."

Legolas readied his bow and was about to end him when Ethuiel stayed his hand. "Wait until he is in front of a tree." she whispered, and signaled for him to observe her. He was perplexed, but did as she bade. Finally the brute did step in front of a large mallorn. Ethuiel reached behind into her quiver and drew out an arrow. Upon the shaft, Legolas saw the words, "For Gondolin" flicker in the moonlight. They were drawn in silver, Elvish script. She nocked an arrow and took aim. At the last she got the notice of the devil creature. "Pssst" she hissed loud enough to be audible to him. He wheeled round to attack and she loosed her dart. In the next instant a dead orc stood nailed to a mallorn with Ethuiel's signature through his throat.

"Guard my path." she whispered to Legolas and made off swiftly toward her kill. A highly confused Elf stood with drawn bow intent to kill for her. She approached and snapped off the dart where it entered the beast's neck and then quickly went back to Legolas. "Now _he_ will draw them all." she said in a gleefully maniacal tone.

He glanced up to see the ghoulish sight and realized her purpose. In the dark, it did indubitably appear as if the thing was simply leaning against the tree. "Come _vana edhel_ ," she whispered, "we must be out of sight when his unfortunate companions arrive." She clasped his hand and led him to a nearby tree.

He placed his hands upon her waist and was about to hoist her up when he saw that she was gazing up at him with shining eyes. He could delay no longer--orcs or no. He raised her chin and found her mouth with his own. With that one sweet and simple kiss, Legolas knew that he was changed. He felt it steal softly into his blood and cast her mark upon his heart. He knew also the moment it had revealed itself to his soul. He looked on her again and she smiled with sleepy eyes. She then nodded and pointed up into the tree. He lifted her lightly and she caught a branch. Up she went and he jumped up and followed after her.

They found two large branches, one beside the other, and made their perch. They leaned against the trunk and waited, bows at the ready. They did not wait long. Two of the hideous creatures soon came slinking through the wood; seemingly searching for the other. They caught sight of Rachmat and began to curse him as they approached. "Having a nap? You lazy cuss!" one of them hissed and then spat at him.

"A rather long nap I should say!" Legolas whispered.

Ethuiel stifled a giggle and raised her bow to loose it upon him. Legolas took aim at the other.

Before they had taken their shots, Ethuiel turned and whispered to Legolas. "Shall we place a wager?" she asked. He raised a brow. She gave the rules. "Let us each choose for the other the mark which our darts should find. If the mark be missed, the one who chose it shall be the winner and claim the stakes."

Legolas smirked and asked, "And what shall be the stakes, lady?"

Ethuiel drew her mouth close enough to touch his ear. She murmured, in the most bewitching voice that even an Elf could muster. "Should I be victorious, I shall claim another kiss from your mouth." Gently, she caressed his ear with her lips and continued. "Should you be the victor you may take another from mine."

When she withdrew, Legolas fought to shake off the dizziness of desire and thought for a moment. He found it a somewhat gruesome and macabre game, but at this particular moment, the prize, and the odds, were far too tempting. He decided that turn-about was fair-play. Softly, he reached into her hood and touched her face. He then brought her mouth very near to his own. "Very well _lissier_ ," he whispered seductively, "for your first target I say that you shall be required to find his heart."

"That is acceptable," she answered with a beaming smile and coy tone, "and your dart then shall pierce an eye."

He drew back and chuckled, "You make my task far more difficult, but I suppose that your challenge is a fair one."

They each then took aim and let their arrows soar. That from Ethuiel's bow sliced through the creature's chest and he fell dead at once. Legolas' target had his back turned on him when he loosed his bow. The dart had penetrated the back of the Orc's head. Ethuiel proclaimed herself clearly the winner and demanded her due. Legolas smiled and said, "I fear that you are mistaken, dearest, for I am certain that we both are winners this round. Let us withhold final judgment until we examine the kill while we remove them from sight."

They climbed out of the tree and made warily to where the beasts had fallen. Legolas turned his victim over. It was revealed that the arrow had stabbed through its head and was indeed protruding from the eye. Ethuiel raised her brows with an expression that demonstrated her esteem. "You impress me greatly, _vana edhel_ ,"she said, "but there is one matter about which you are misguided. We are not both winners in this instance, but losers I am afraid, for the rules of the game are clear; a winner can emerge only by the _miss_ of his opponent. Thus, neither of us can collect the prize." Legolas frowned. He realized that when she had told him those rules, he had become dizzier than he thought. Ethuiel shrugged her shoulders and began to drag her kill out of sight by its feet.

Once the dead were stowed safely out of sight, they made quietly back to the tree. As they climbed in Legolas felt a leap of excitement in his belly. He hoped another pair would come shortly. He liked this game after all. Orcs, he thought, had always been a scourge of the land and he had certainly killed them whenever the opportunity arose, but there was suddenly something different about the delight he was taking at the chance to do so. He thought it curious, but did not give it more than a moment’s thought. Besides, he was determined to _miss_ his mark in the next round.

They waited for more prey to present themselves from the safety of their perch. Legolas was considering making her next mark a back tooth (that the Orc probably would not even possess), and in this way, they would both be winners and could therefore each claim a kiss. As he was thinking this, he began to hear heavy, running footsteps drawing near to them. He braced his feet on a branch below him with his bow at a complete pull and waited. Ethuiel stood up on her feet and did the same.

A short time later, a band of six orcs came barreling through the wood. Legolas and Ethuiel each got off two shots in rapid succession, killing four of the running mongrels. The other two darted behind the trees to avoid the Elven darts. They were about to climb down and pursue when they saw two Elves rapidly giving chase.

As they drew closer, the two in the tree saw that it was Haldir and Rúmil who looked at the dead swine in confusion. " _Rúmil!_ " she whispered, " _Nelmet si, Ethuiel a Legolas! Galadhiesse tiro!_ " Rumil pointed them out to Haldir who waved and held up his hands motioning for them to point out the unseen orcs. Legolas used his arrow to point out the trees behind which the beasts were hiding. The Elves on the ground drew their bows and approached, while those in the tree made ready to assist if needed. No aid was necessary. Haldir dashed between them to draw them out and Rúmil shot them both dead before either took another stride.

When it was done, they went back to the tree where Ethuiel and Legolas were descending. They told them that there had actually been twenty-five of the goblins skulking about in a mob just outside of the boarder when they and some of the other elves who were on patrol had come upon them. They confessed that the one that was now pinned to the tree had somehow escaped detection, but were quite glad to see that he had been dispatched and that none had taken a hurt in the process. They told them that they would see to it that the carcasses were removed and burned; that they could go on about their night.

Ethuiel thanked them but then approached the tree were she had pinned Rachmat. She grabbed him by the wrist and hauled him down. She then enthusiastically kicked him from her path and approached the tree. She examined the hack that her dart had put there and shook her head. She produced a small crystal jar that contained a fragrant salve and spread it gently about the gash in the bark. She retreated with a gesture of gratitude and returned to the others.

Haldir and Rúmil embraced Ethuiel and welcomed her home, as they had not seen her since her return from Rivendell. They walked together back to her loft. Those on guard then took their leave. As she made her way up, they took Legolas aside. "I see the lady predicted correctly, as always, Legolas;" Haldir said, "for you have indeed looked upon her face again. Beware your heart now friend, for if you can free hers, you shall be counted among the greats of our kind whatever the end of The Quest brings." Rúmil shot Legolas a half-smile and slapped him on the shoulder. With that, they departed.

Legolas watched them go and thought for a moment about Haldir's words. He still did not believe that it was possible to lose one's ability to love and experience joy. He shrugged them off and went up the ladder. Ethuiel had removed her cloak and was seated on the mats with a glass of wine which she offered to him. He accepted it and sat beside her. On the one hand she seemed quite content, on the other; he saw that the lash on her leg was still bleeding slightly through the wrapping. He asked to examine it again, but she declined telling him that by the morrow it would be diminished. She smiled reassuringly.

"At least let us change the dressing." he said, "The blood has come through."

Still she declined. "Nay, Legolas! I tell you it will be well by the sunrise, which is not far off now. If it will put you more at ease, I will change the wrap myself, but I will do so unaccompanied if you please."

He looked at her suspiciously, but yielded and she rose and went with water, bandages and her crystal jar into a small side room by herself. She allowed a little light from the lamp that was there and unwrapped the dressing. The wound was up to her knee and it was not only bleeding, but also it looked poisoned; it festered and stank of death. The balrog's poison had been spent for long ages. That which remained belonged to Ethuiel alone. For all of the blood she had spilt, there would never be enough to quench her thirst for it; never be enough, to her mind, to match the volume of tears she had shed. She sighed and examined the wound more closely. "Oh, vile!" she thought to herself. Vile it was--and excruciating. It did not typically cause her so much pain. She, in fact, could not remember the last time she had felt it at all. She was too weary to ponder it further, so she cleaned the abscessed area well, wrapped it and returned to Legolas.

She displayed the new dressing and he looked satisfied. She rejoined him on the pillows and he took her in his arms. He lay her down beside him and told her thus, "I do not believe that there is such a curse that could leave one loveless and joyless and yet allow her heart to beat. I believe that your love is bound so tightly and densely within your sorrow that you simply cannot feel it or find it any longer. I will be patient Ethuiel. I will work those ghastly knots and brambles until they give way to me, and then I will give myself up to that which lies beneath. If I am allowed to live, I will heal you and love you." He then smiled at her and said, "I swear this before Elbereth Gilthoniel, and I shall never cease."

Legolas wiped away the tears that had welled in her eyes and kissed her with all of the passion in his changing heart, until the sun rose. And there in a Mallorn tree, in the darkest winter that Lorien had known, Love and Desire fell together into sleep. So much love there was in the heart of Legolas the Elf in that chill morning, that some escaped through his eyes and imparted itself to that tree. It stood with his love implanted in its roots long after all the others in Lorien had perished.  
***

Author's Note:

More translations:

_"Nelmet si, Ethuiel a Legolas! Galadhiesse tiro!"_ \- "It is Ethuiel and Legolas! Look here in the tree!"

_Yrch_ \- Orc


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After surviving the fall of Gondolin, Ethuiel, one of the inhabitants of this once magnificent city, swears vengence against the Evil One and his servant, Sauron. After nearly two ages in pursuit of retribution, she is still not satisfied. The cost of her enduring hatred and sorrow is great indeed. When she meets the remainder of the Fellowship in Lothlorien it becomes clear to all, to Legolas in particular, that the time has come for Ethuiel to heal and to mourn no more. Recognizing good advice and abiding it, however, are two exceedingly different things. Warning: A large part of the premise of this story may be considered AU--the rest is all canon! Also, there are moments of sensuality, but nothing too overt.

When they awoke the sun was high. It was warmer than is winter’s wont and Legolas was all the more blissful for it. He turned his love to him and embraced her. He took a deep breath of her long neck and felt dizzy in his head. He whispered into her ear. "It is a fair day _lissier_ ; more fair than any other to which I have yet awakened. Rise with me now and let us go out into the city and take our breakfast though it is late. Then, if you will, I would like to present you to some others whom I love also. You have been in their thoughts, I am confident, since we observed you on the bank yester eve. I do not know if you were aware of our presence, but all who saw you were deeply moved by your song and your sorrow. Why not show them now that you are well?"

"I was well aware of who was behind me _vana edhel_ , but I did not have the heart to face them. Although I dearly wished to see you, as dearly, did I _not_ wish for you to see me. But now it is done and I am as well as I can be, thus I will abide your wishes. I will come presently and meet you though, for ladies require time unhindered to prepare for such introductions." She smiled and stretched and got to her feet. Legolas took his leave with a long embrace and a smile that put the sun to shame in its brilliance.

When he was gone, Ethuiel hobbled into her room and collapsed on the bed. Quickly she unwrapped the dressing. The scar did truly look better, but felt worse--far worse. It felt as though the whole leg was aflame and she bit back on tears. She could not fathom how or why it caused her such pain after so much time had past. "I don't think it pained me so much on the night that I received it!" she thought to herself. She lay on the bed in agony until at last the burning subsided a bit and she was able to fetch cool water and salve to soothe it completely.

When the pain had at last subsided, she rose and made herself ready. She wore a gown of deep red that was gilded in silver stitching, the neckline revealing the silver chain which hung about her neck. Upon the chain there hung a pendant that bore the depiction of a fountain. A dusting of diamonds was emulating its shower and falling into a pool that was one large stone. It was the only thing that had been left from Ethuiel's House after the fall of Gondolin; and that only because it had been around her neck. It was the world to her and when she handled it, her father seemed nearer. She did so now and said a quiet prayer. Then she wrapped a silver shawl about her shoulders and left her flet.

As she walked she admired the wood as Legolas had done the night before. She had not done so since first she had come to dwell there in search of peace more than five hundred winters before. The sun let its praise upon her face and she felt glad. She took it in and smiled. With a gesture of recognition and thanks Ethuiel quickened her step and found her way to Legolas and new friends.

As she entered the hall, all conversation halted. She felt sixteen eyes fall upon her with a thud. None though, fell heavier than those of Legolas who was searching her face for a sign of change. After a moment she smiled warmly and a mischievous look came into her eye. "You all must stop chattering about me now, for I have arrived." she laughed. "But compliments and news of what has been said in my absence would be agreeable to me." The company laughed and all rose and bowed courteously. Ethuiel returned in kind and Legolas approached and took her hand. He brought her forth and introductions were made.

As they came around to Frodo he approached her and took her hand. "It is a great pleasure to see you well lady;" he said, "One through whom our tears have found a voice." His words were gallant and gracious, but in his eyes she saw an anxiousness and pity that made her feel selfish. Rightly so, selfish she was indeed. Of this she had been well aware for longer than the lifetime of a Rowan tree. Simply being aware of one's ailment and having the ability to cure it, however, do not always walk the same path. At times like this when she was made starkly aware of this deep fault in her character, she checked herself as best she could.

She knelt down to make their faces level. She looked deeply into his eyes and told him, "Ah Frodo, gentle hobbit and dear friend, I have no sorrows greater than your own. Do not lay mine in your pack as well, for you could not bear it--nor could I." She embraced him gently and when she did, she felt that his sorrow was truly profound. She looked on him again and felt a spark in her leg. The Archer hushed the pain with her will and smiled. She stood again and sat down at the table. There she and the Walkers ate and drank and spoke well into the afternoon.

That evening they all went into the pavilion together. Ethuiel was seated next to Legolas who was in turn talking with Gimli. They were conversing about something in which she was not particularly interested. She looked about the pavilion. She saw the hobbits playing together a game she did not know. They had deep love between them. It made her smile to see it, yet she envied them also.

She looked about again and saw Aragorn and Boromir sitting with their backs leaning against a tree, speaking quietly and smoking. She excused herself from her two companions and approached them. “Please, join us!" Boromir said, and he laid out his cloak for her to sit upon.

Ethuiel smiled and said, "I thank you kindly, but I pray that I am not disturbing you." They both shook their heads, so she sat down beside them.

Boromir looked at her intently and spoke. "Our Elf friend tells us that you were aware of our presence last eve on the bank." She nodded that she was. Boromir continued, "I hope that you did not misinterpret my misgivings at being told of your position. I did not say those things in scorn, but in dismay.

"I am a Man of Gondor, dear lady and we protect our women with our lives. It is difficult for me to think of a lady--especially one so delicate and fair, having to take up the sword herself where there ought to be a hundred surrounding her. Legolas has told us of your great skill, and I am glad that it is yours in these dark times, and yet I wish that it needn't be exploited but for sport."

Ethuiel gave a look of understanding and replied. "You are not only kind and fair of face Man of Gondor, but also your heart is noble and righteous. I dare say that had I been surrounded by a hundred swords in hands such as yours, bow and quiver would, almost certainly, never have entered mine. But I pray you to take heart and teach your daughters well, for if the last sword that guards her falls, it is she who pays most dearly and dreadfully. If she cannot fight and die with her dignity and virtue, the price is too great to speak of." Boromir felt his heart falter as she spoke those words. He lifted her hand and pressed it to his lips. He took his leave to walk and to think of Minas Tirith.

She and Aragorn smiled at one another. "You and I have a mutual friend; a most beloved friend I think." Aragorn said. "She has spoken to me of you on more than one occasion; she holds you in the highest regard as a friend, and as dearly in her heart."

Ethuiel grinned and held out her hand for a draw of his pipe. "I would wager," she sang, "a great sum that it is not I who is in her thoughts at this moment. To my friend Arwen Undómiel, you, lord, are as blood is to veins."

His pining was clear as she said this to him, but she continued all the same. "She speaks to me of it often, for I am one of her sole confidants who will not scorn her on the matter. It is in my mind thus, if one possesses a love that is so boundless, as is hers, it is not a thing to discard; regardless of the cost. Such a price should be paid not as penalty, but as privilege. And now that I have looked on you, I see her thrust plainly." She laughed and swept his hair from his eyes. Then she looked at him keenly and said, "I believe now that you shall have all that is your due, and if this does not come to be, then we all shall have naught, Estel." She grasped his hand and he squeezed tightly around hers. She kissed his cheeks and embraced him telling him, "I believe. I truly do, Estel."

Ethuiel and Aragorn sat for a time in silence and smoked. No more needed to be said, for a great friendship had been forged between them before ever they had met. It was only that night, though, that Aragorn realized that Ethuiel was not only a champion to the Lady of Light, but in a way, to him as well. "Although she is harmed and feels no love, a friend to love she is," he thought to himself, "And for this I shall love her always."

The evening grew to night and at last, she took her leave of her new found friends. She and Legolas made ready to walk back to her loft when Gimli came to her and begged a word. Legolas acquiesced to his friend with a teasingly suspicious smirk. With that she took Gimli’s arm. They strolled lightly through the wood and spoke of small things for a time. At length they came to small clearing and sat upon the gold carpeted floor of the wood. There Gimli spoke to her of what was in his mind.

"Dear Ethuiel," he began, "Legolas is less closed with me than he is with the rest. Not that he could hide his heart from any who love him, but to me he speaks of it, and of you, openly. He has told me of your sad history together and of the plight you now share. I wish to speak to you of the hatred and sorrow you save in your heart so that no love or joy may enter."

Ethuiel made a motion to speak, but Gimli raised his hand and prevented her. "Please sweet lady, hear me first, for how long I can endure the sorrow that escapes you, I know not. But these few words I must say for the sake of my friend, and his beloved.

"You grieve in good cause and your wrath is more than justified, for we all who are here share in that with you. I sympathize with you greatly; more now than ever I could have since I have seen the splendor of Moria sacked and the bones of my mutilated kin strewn about as carrion. I hate them also my dear. My hatred, however, I do not allow to poison my whole heart as you have."

Ethuiel felt her foot and leg begin to throb at his words, but she did not stop his tongue. "If our loathing is to consume us, what is the purpose of beating back the Shadow? With what then are we left when sweet victory is ours?

"My friendship with our Elf is a bright, new one about which I am most surprised and pleased. If I had allowed the ruin of Khazâd dûm to defeat me, it never could have become. Now it stands that if we are able to defy the Shadow and let Light reign once more in Middle Earth, I will have a friend, like no other, with whom to share in it. It is difficult to explain how I know what I am about to say to you, but nevertheless; I am better for his friendship and he also is better for mine. These are things that make our world worth fighting and dying for, Ethuiel. I beg you to heed me and share in them with us, for also I know that if he cannot heal and take you to wife, my friend will never again live truly in the light, and all that has been so keenly forged between us will not be as vivid and fair as it might yet be.

"I tell you lady, Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood, loves you. I wish that I could tell you that his love is dear. He does not, however, love you dearly. He loves you dreadfully. His heart sings and cries, as do you. If you cannot yet be made whole and must, therefore, tread upon his heart, I plead with you to do so lightly, as only one of Elven kindred can, for in that way he may be, at some moments, able to let the light and joy upon him. Even for that I will be grateful."

As he finished and gazed into her eyes with entreaty, Ethuiel cried out in hideous pain. She clutched her leg. Tears and sweat poured down her fair face. Gimli sprang up with a start and pried her fingers away to examine the scar. It was not bleeding, but it pulsed and pounded. Swift as an adder's strike, Gimli swept her up and sprinted in the direction of the pavilion. As he ran he heard others approaching. She cried out again and Gimli gripped her tightly and bore down with his feet. He then heard Legolas calling out to them.

In a moment he saw them. Aragorn, Legolas and the hobbits came dashing through the trees from the pavilion brandishing their weapons and calling out. From the other direction Ethuiel saw Boromir also sprinting toward them, sword drawn.

As they reached Gimli, Legolas cried out in despair. "What has happened? I beg you to tell me that she is not shot!" Gimli passed her gently into the elf's open arms.

"Nay , Legolas. The hurt that stings her is older than my sires. Her pain is dire though and how to relieve it, I know not."

Legolas carried her quickly back to the pavilion and lay her down upon the grass. He too was forced to pry away her fingers in order to view the leg. To his eyes, the mark looked far better than it had the last time she had allowed him to dress it. He blotted her brow with his cloak and lifted the leg to see it more closely. Gently he touched the scar and ran his fingers along it in search of a tender or open spot. When he did this Ethuiel let out a scream of agony and recoiled from him.

Frodo's own wound bit down hard on him. He fought back a start and sat down on the grass. He gazed at her and, to his horror, he knew that even if he managed to survive The Quest, this was to be his own grievous fate. At length Aragorn said, "Take her to Galadriel, Legolas." With that Legolas lifted her and was about to go in search of Galadriel when the Lady entered the pavilion on her own.

Galadriel directed Legolas to place her once more upon the grass. She knelt down beside her and clasped her hand. She then leaned and whispered something quietly into Ethuiel's ear. The tortured maid clutched tightly at the wound but held fast also to the hand of her queen. After a time Galadriel called upon her lord who lifted Ethuiel himself and carried her to their own apartments in the palace. Legolas begged to be allowed to follow but the Lady declined him.

"Give her to me now, Legolas. And do not despair. Such pain is always a path in healing; pain and time. Time is yet too short. She can endure no more than that which is upon her. Also, do not believe that her torment will end here, for this is but a beginning which I have witnessed once before. She will emerge with this curse loosened, yet intact. Still you all should be heartened for such noble intentions." She turned to Gimli. "I pray that they shall not go without reward." Galadriel then rose and followed Celeborn.  
***  



	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After surviving the fall of Gondolin, Ethuiel, one of the inhabitants of this once magnificent city, swears vengence against the Evil One and his servant, Sauron. After nearly two ages in pursuit of retribution, she is still not satisfied. The cost of her enduring hatred and sorrow is great indeed. When she meets the remainder of the Fellowship in Lothlorien it becomes clear to all, to Legolas in particular, that the time has come for Ethuiel to heal and to mourn no more. Recognizing good advice and abiding it, however, are two exceedingly different things. Warning: A large part of the premise of this story may be considered AU--the rest is all canon! Also, there are moments of sensuality, but nothing too overt.

Although the worst of the ordeal was over by morning, Ethuiel did not emerge from the palace for three days. She spoke there long with the Lord and Lady and they prayed to The One for hope. Legolas waited in quiet longing.

At last Ethuiel came to him and he could not contain his elation. When he took her in his arms in a strong embrace, he felt that a deep change had indeed taken place. It was not, however, the one for which he had so fervently prayed. Her hold seemed lifeless and her eyes had grown dim. He remembered his vow of patience and hid his frustration though he lamented in his heart; for it seemed to him that not only had he failed to gain her love, but had also lost the desire that she bore him and had sworn was his alone.

During the following days he saw her little, but always went to her _flet_ at nightfall. She spoke far less and her laughter became difficult to provoke. She seemed to drift in a dead, dreamless sleep and Legolas despaired of how to wrest her from it. He knew that his time in Lothlórien was growing short. He knew that he must leave her—probably forever, and he did not wish for his dying thoughts to be of a ruined beloved.

Two nights before they were to set out once again, Legolas made his way to Ethuiel’s loft; searching his mind for a magic verse or song to free her. Alas, he arrived without one prepared. He swallowed the lump in his throat and called for the ladder. It was sent down and he sighed deeply and climbed slowly to the top. He entered and there he saw Ethuiel, standing with many dimly lit lamps around her. She wore a gossamer, silver sheath that flowed off of her shoulders, revealing her arms and long, shapely neck. Strands of diamonds were weaved into the dark tresses that hung about her bare back. Her loveliness was startling.

Legolas felt his heart leap with hope, but as he advanced, that hope died. Her eyes were still a mist of shadow and the light of the lamps shrank from her. She turned away from him and slowly walked to her bed. Standing at the foot she bade him come near. He reached her and she took his hand and kissed it.

“Of all the years that this dreadful curse has plagued me, this phase, that I am told is of healing, has been by far the worst. If it be truly mending, I cannot then bear to be healed. In my mind it has killed me at last, but laughs cruelly at my stirring death. Half of your wish has been granted, Legolas. My heart has, without doubt, been emptied yet again, quite completely. It appears, though, that the gates are porous in one direction only, that being outwardly. I plead with you now to lay your hands upon me. Take me into this bed that it might revive, at the least, the desire that lies dead in the waste of my heart." She paused and stared at him with eyes that were at once imploring and vacant. She continued, but the words came hard. "I can endure the silence there no longer. Help me lest I cut it from myself completely."

Again, Ethuiel kissed his hand and placed it upon her throat, while her hands loosed the broach of his cloak. It slid from his shoulders and floated softly to the floor. She lifted her mouth and he took it with a tender, hazy passion. His hands drifted lightly to her back and he cradled her willowy frame as gently as his strong arms would allow as he lifted and laid her upon the bed. Running his fingertips lightly over the scar that was now stayed just above her ankle, he found it closed and quiet. When he looked back into her face, the Elf saw there a flicker of want. For a moment, the lights leapt back into her eyes. Legolas needed no more assurance than this to show him that this course of action was the correct one. Drawing his love close to him, he kissed and traced the lines of her body with intense need. She sighed and whispered to his lips, provoking him further.

His passion was overbearing. He had to show her that his love for her was true;  
steadfast--deathless as their kind. Legolas did not merely love her beauty and her wit. He loved her torment as well. The sadness it brought into his heart was an agony, but it was a part of her. He would endure it for as long as it could abide. The love he bore her was stronger; he had to show her that this was the unshakable truth, beyond question. Kneeling upon the bed at her feet, and locking her gaze to his, he lifted her scarred foot slowly to his lips. He would not be kept out. The thorns and razors that blocked all else, _would_ let him pass.

Her long arms drifted above her head in surrender as she whispered his name with deep and labored breath. It set him aflame. But as he bore down with his lips, his yearning, intoxicating and thick, he felt the lash grow. It was but a slight movement; far less than an inch, but when he felt it happen, a thought—a terrible thought rent Legolas' mind as a knife slices through flesh. “Should her desire return before love, will love be allowed to follow?" The very idea made him shrink back from her.

He stood up, shaking visibly. Ethuiel sat up looking frightened and confused. She held out her palm and pleaded with her eyes. Legolas turned from her trying to find words for his anguish. He paced about the room for a moment but, at last, found his tongue. “To deny you any want is a scald upon my soul, Ethuiel; my love, my light. Although your desire is my dearest delight, without your love I will not receive it."

Ethuiel moved to the edge of the bed and spoke in a tone that expressed her offence. “I fear, my Lord, that it is yours whether you will or you nill!"

Legolas answered with a flash of anger, “Do not call me your ‘Lord' when it is clear that you will not allow it to be so!"

Ethuiel approached him and smiled warmly. Gently, she placed her hands upon his face. “You know little of what I will or will not allow. Allow me to put this question to you. What is it that each of us may have to lose in slaking my desire? For you, it is your heart, which you claim is mine at present. Now me, what is it that I shall lose in the venture? Walking death? Bareness? Ah, and of course, my maiden skin." She stared into his eyes and saw his own deep desire. She smiled wryly. “To my mind it would be well bestowed this night, and one thing fewer to carry about ever more."

Legolas smiled, dumbstruck. Clasping his hand, she led him back to the bed and knelt upon it. Gently she placed her hands upon his chest and kissed him. Again, she whispered, “Oh Legolas, what then is love without desire? It would be that which one feels for mother or father; or for dear friend. That is love which you already possess, and I have no mind to provide you with such in any case. Love is an immeasurable gem; brilliant and white. I grant you that freely, but if it cannot be mine shall I forsake all else that is left to me?" She caressed his lips with her own in urgent passion and tried to sway him to her thought. “Is not desire a precious jewel of its own? Flaming red and radiant, is its brightness and glory poorer or less priceless? I wear this gem upon my hand and it burns there for you alone. Please my dearest one; accept the only gift I have to give you." She gazed beseechingly into his eyes. “This may well be our only chance, Legolas. I leave on errand at sunrise, and you will be away ere I return. Mere hours we have left to us now."

Legolas was not prepared to hear those words. His heart fell to his feet and hot tears could not be stopped from spilling. He clutched her to his body and fell upon her. Desperately he kissed her and caressed her with trembling hands. The bitter sweetness of her touch, the texture of her gentle sighs and the feel of her body, arching softly against his, fed his hunger and his misery at once. Soon the awful thought of ruining her forever scorched his mind once more. Again he recoiled and battled with his tears.

“Oh Ethuiel!" he cried, “I yet have hope to return and find you whole! I cannot stake love against desire, for I must have both or none. Desire is as you say, truly a bright jewel, but red it does not burn if it is not worn upon the same hand with love’s white. Alone it is only the black of lust. I thought that my gem was brilliant enough to consume us both with love’s light, but it is clear to me now that your stone is the stronger and could destroy mine with one blow."

He took her shoulders strongly in his hands and held her eyes with his own. "I love you, Ethuiel. With all of my purpose and strength, I love you. I must leave you now that I might keep it safe. I shall need it where I am going."

Ethuiel’s face was wet with tears. Legolas sobbed and took her in to him for what he thought might be their final embrace. One last sweet kiss from her mouth and one long look upon her fair, sorrowful face he took. Then he broke from her and departed without a farewell.  
***  



	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After surviving the fall of Gondolin, Ethuiel, one of the inhabitants of this once magnificent city, swears vengence against the Evil One and his servant, Sauron. After nearly two ages in pursuit of retribution, she is still not satisfied. The cost of her enduring hatred and sorrow is great indeed. When she meets the remainder of the Fellowship in Lothlorien it becomes clear to all, to Legolas in particular, that the time has come for Ethuiel to heal and to mourn no more. Recognizing good advice and abiding it, however, are two exceedingly different things. Warning: A large part of the premise of this story may be considered AU--the rest is all canon! Also, there are moments of sensuality, but nothing too overt.

Ethuiel lay weeping upon the bed when he was gone. She felt her heart bleed out desire and again become a void. Her tears ceased and, after a time, she rose. She thought of Legolas' words and hoped that he had been correct. He had told her that he would need his love for her when he reached his destination. What was that place? She knew not. She had never made any inquiries regarding their mission. To her mind, if he had been free to speak of it, he would have done so. Far be it for her to press for such knowledge where it was not offered unreservedly, for she herself had been charged with tasks that required the utmost secrecy. She would not have taken kindly to such pressures of curious friends. These were dark times. She felt a glimmer of fear for them all and prayed quietly.

At last she readied herself for duty. The Lord and Lady had charged her and a band of the guard to go out into the forest and travel south, clearing the land of danger so that the Company might go, at least for a short time, unopposed. They had been bidden to follow the river Anduin and scour the wood; to go as far as they could in two days and return thereafter to Lórien.

And so a band of eight Elves, one to represent each of the remaining Walkers, went out of Caras Galadon to play their part in the last stand against the Shadow. Galadriel had chosen the best of Lothlórien's archers and swordsmen in a gesture of hope beyond hope.

For those two days they scouted ardently, but found naught. All was alarmingly still. The nights were cold and starless and through the trees, clouds took haunting shapes before a pale, waning moon. Ethuiel struggled with listlessness. Her feet grew heavy and her sight, dim. Her companions recognized it but knew not how to address the matter. Rúmil summoned his courage and resolved to try. When they had camped on the second night he approached her as she sat alone with her back against a tree.

"Ethuiel," he said softly, "How is it with you? I know you well, so I cannot say that you seem troubled, however, I see also that you are not yourself." Slowly as if it was a great effort, she turned to face him.

"You see clearly in darkness or day, Rúmil. Nay, I am not myself, for I am now--no one." Rúmil sat down beside her.

"I do not take your meaning. You are Ethuiel, Ecthelion's Daughter, now of Lothlórien and the Lady of Light. How do you say that you are 'no one'?"

Ethuiel answered in a whispering monotone, “I am one without feeling in heart or hand. Neither love, nor joy, nor pain nor sorrow; neither do I hate any longer. Galadriel insists that it is a glorious, miraculous event, but I lived nearly two ages with it Rúmil, and I cannot continue this way another two days let alone two ages awaiting the next chapter of renewal. What good am I to her or anyone if I have neither love nor hate?"

Rúmil drew near her and placed his arm about her shoulders. "It shall not be so long I think that you will wait for the next phase, dearest sister-elf. You stand now upon a high precipice. Your laborious climb is done. It is but for you to take one last step and plunge back to us here on the ground below who elatedly await you; back to whole life. I hope that for all our sakes, especially that of the poor prince of Mirkwood, that you will do my bidding. I am certain that if he returns and you take that final step, he will be standing beneath that rock, arms open, waiting to catch you; no matter how far the fall."

Ethuiel rested her head upon his shoulder. She had no strength or will to cry. There Rúmil sat with her until the sun rose. She fell into a dreamless sleep and he closed his eyes and prayed.

 

***  
The day finally arrived when the Walkers set out from Lórien. As the Lady bestowed upon Legolas the gifts that had been made for him, she lifted the hem of the cloak that had been wrapped round his shoulders. There he saw an embroidered message: _"O henath um dartha dolen. --Ethuiel"_ and Legolas felt her near. She then pointed with her thumb at the tip of the bow’s limb. There he saw an inscription in silver: _"Ethuiel sen peng enchant an Legolas"_. He held it to his heart, but Galadriel was not yet finished. Before she handed him the quiver, the Lady drew out one arrow for him to view. Upon the shaft, also drawn in sliver, the inscription read: _"Mirkwood an Gondolin"_. "Indeed." he sighed, and looked into her deep gray eyes.

At last the Lady handed him the quiver. Upon it was bonded the pendant, bearing the sign of the House of the Fountain, which his love had worn around her neck. Legolas was stunned and he turned his eyes downward. Galadriel approached him and raised his chin with her fair hand. _"Nûr na sen aníra."_ she said and kissed his forehead.

And so they went out of Lothlórien; southward down the River Anduin, toward the Falls of Rauros. Upon what paths The Quest would take them thereafter, none knew. But as the Elf and the Dwarf sat together, navigating stoically toward that fate, their mutual despondency forged their bond all the more securely, for each had left the thing he loved most to pursue it.  
***

 

Author's notes:

English translations from Sindarian:

_"O henath um dartha dolen. --Ethuiel"_ \- "Remain hidden from evil eyes. --Ethuiel"

_"Ethuiel sen peng enchant an Legolas"_ \- "Ethuiel made this bow for Legolas"

_"Mirkwood an Gondolin"_ \- "Mirkwood for Gondolin"

_"Nûr na sen aníra."_ \- "Deep is this desire."


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After surviving the fall of Gondolin, Ethuiel, one of the inhabitants of this once magnificent city, swears vengence against the Evil One and his servant, Sauron. After nearly two ages in pursuit of retribution, she is still not satisfied. The cost of her enduring hatred and sorrow is great indeed. When she meets the remainder of the Fellowship in Lothlorien it becomes clear to all, to Legolas in particular, that the time has come for Ethuiel to heal and to mourn no more. Recognizing good advice and abiding it, however, are two exceedingly different things. Warning: A large part of the premise of this story may be considered AU--the rest is all canon! Also, there are moments of sensuality, but nothing too overt.

As the Company from Rivendell made ready to leave the Golden Wood at last, the band of Elves that had gone out from Lórien prepared to do their Lady’s bidding and return to her. Ethuiel knew that she could not return as she was. She said to Rúmil, “Tell the Lady that I will return to her either healed or regressed, but not before one or the other has befallen me." He protested and tried to reason with her, but she would hear none of it. She at last allowed them each to embrace her and then slowly, she walked out of their lives.

She continued southward; not for any purpose other than her companions were traveling in the other direction. She plodded on for a day not eating, drinking or sleeping. There was no reason behind her abstinence; Ethuiel simply felt no need. Late in the gray morning of her second solitary day, she heard the sound of oar breaking water. She climbed into a tree high above the floor of the wood, and stared up the river's flow.

There she saw the boats of Lórien drawing near. Her first thought was that the Lord and Lady had sent a band to retrieve her and she was not at all pleased. But then it occurred to her that this could not be so, for Rúmil and the others could not yet have reached home to inform her queen of the decision she had made. She waited quietly to see who would approach.

It was not long before she realized who was coming. She sat stone still and drew up the hood of her cloak. As they passed her, Ethuiel looked solely at Legolas, exactly as she had done in her childhood. Now, however, she was wholly unmoved by his beauty and grace. She heard a faint voice telling her that she must go to him, and that it would be her final chance; she had no will to do so. Ethuiel did not care. They were not even out of sight when she, sluggishly, climbed out of the tree.

There she planted herself, uncertain of what to do next. She stared vacantly at the running water. To Ethuiel it seemed as cloudy as her slumberous mind. As she was forcing herself to rise and move on, a chill wind swept up suddenly and whipped her hood from her head. That was when she saw him. A pale, gray shape was drifting on a log toward the shore, very near where she sat. She drew the hood up again and crept behind the tree. Out of nothing more than instinct, The Archer reached into her quiver, drew out a dart and nocked it to her bow.

The creature approached the bank and slithered off of his log pulling it along with him as he came. He stood up straight to glance about and she was able to get a good look at him. To Ethuiel he looked like a very old and very hungry hobbit. She wondered how a creature so emaciated could find the strength to swim. His eyes, though, were what struck her most. The iris was so pale. It almost appeared that he had none, and the sight sent a shiver down her spine. She welcomed it; at least it was something. This was not, definitely not, a hobbit.

She saw that he had something shiny in his hand and was holding it close to his body as if someone might take it from him. His eyes darted back and forth. When he was certain of his privacy, he opened his hand to admire his treasure. It wiggled. "Oh, a fish!" she thought to herself. She was almost relieved that he would have a last meal. Patiently, she waited for him to finish. His manners were repulsive. "Oh dear," she thought, "I wonder if he has ever eaten a morsel in his wretched life!" Now she began to feel something familiar; had she the strength, it would have made her glad. It was pity.

When he was done, however, she held her bow at full draw and stepped out from her hiding place. From behind him, Gollum heard a voice that was neither commanding nor tentative. _"Drago."_ It said to him.

Translation:

_"Drago."_ \- "Halt."


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After surviving the fall of Gondolin, Ethuiel, one of the inhabitants of this once magnificent city, swears vengence against the Evil One and his servant, Sauron. After nearly two ages in pursuit of retribution, she is still not satisfied. The cost of her enduring hatred and sorrow is great indeed. When she meets the remainder of the Fellowship in Lothlorien it becomes clear to all, to Legolas in particular, that the time has come for Ethuiel to heal and to mourn no more. Recognizing good advice and abiding it, however, are two exceedingly different things. Warning: A large part of the premise of this story may be considered AU--the rest is all canon! Also, there are moments of sensuality, but nothing too overt.

The company held course as did the flow of Anduin; slow but resolute. Legolas felt an abrupt tow upon his will, in the opposite direction. Frodo felt it too. The two turned simultaneously around and stared behind. All took notice and questioned them. Aragorn had felt such a tug before and told Frodo that it was a natural reaction to leaving the sight of Galadriel. Frodo believed his words, for he felt sure that none could leave such grace without a fight from within.

Gimli turned to Legolas. “I wonder if they know." he said.

The Elf looked confused, but intrigued. “If who knows what?"

"Females--of all kindreds," the Dwarf replied. “I wonder if they are aware of the capacity of a man’s heart. Do they begin to comprehend the devotion we bear them? Can they understand all that we would lay at their feet, or cast aside for their sake? Do they know the _perfect_ happiness that we are granted at such feelings?"

Legolas thought for a time, and then answered with heaviness in his voice. “I believe they do, Gimli. They know because that devotion is returned to us in kind." He eyed the medallion on his quiver. “Yes, they know." Gimli nodded and turned to face the rolling water. For a long time, they said nothing further.  
***

Gollum sprang up and tried to jump back into the water. Ethuiel then spoke to him in the common speech. “Halt creature! The Archer of Gondolin is at your back!" At that he fell to the ground writhing and began to weep, beg and curse at once. “Don’t kill usssss! Pleasssse don’t kill us! Nasty, horrible, vicious Elveses! We knew they would get us! Just a matter of time it was! Just a matter of time." As he said the last words he looked up at her with his haunting, desperate eyes. Then he buried his face in his arms and wept with his body flat upon the ground.

Ethuiel lowered her bow. No, she would not kill him, not yet. Strangely, she felt that she needed a reason. Things were different for her now. She marveled at her own resistance and the obvious transition in her thought. She would never have hesitated, before now, to kill something so apparently malevolent and who clearly had no love for Elves. She thought it would be wise to keep her distance. As sickly and lean as he was, she could see a malicious strength in this being and decided that she, unquestionably, did not care to scrap with him. An archer she was, a brawler she was not.

“Stay precisely where you are, creature, and you may be the first to survive such a meeting. But do sit up so that I may look on you." she said in a reassuring voice. Gollum slowly sat up and hunched over, looking terrified and bewildered. “Now tell me your name and your business in this land. You are far too close to the Golden Wood for my liking. Why do you follow this river? What is your destination?"

Gollum lifted his eyes and stared down stream. He was afraid that he would not be able to catch them after such a delay. In his mind he considered springing an attack so that he might be free to pursue. As he did so, The Archer perceived his thought and, once again, raised her bow. He knew he was caught, and finally, with resignation, he spoke. “We are poor Gollum." he said, and shook his head. “We follow the thieves who took our precious! Tricksy, tricksy thieves!" When he said this he whined and threw his arms into the air. Again, he began to cry.

Ethuiel tried to calm him. “Who is your precious, and who are these captors? We do not take kindly to such rogues in Lórien. If you can point them out, I will dispatch them for you and save your precious." She looked at him keenly and wondered what female might be inclined to keep company with him. “Whoever she is." she added, and shook all over. Gollum cocked his head to one side and nearly laughed.

He contemplated her mistake. Perhaps he could use it against them all and at last have the precious for his own once more. In a moment though, he thought better of it. There was an Elf in that band. If he attempted what he was considering, the plan could easily recoil--around his own neck. He began to choke out his rattling cough. “ _Gollum, gollum!"_ In a moment, he contained himself. "Cannot catch them now. Must be patient, must be wise, yesss. Need no help from cruel Elveses besides." He shrunk down pitifully.

“I see now how you acquired this name ‘Gollum'" Ethuiel said quietly. “It seems to me a hateful thing and I do not care for it. Even weeks ago, I would have thought it amusing, but then again, weeks ago I would have killed you before I learned it." She stared at him solemnly from under her hood. “I do not wish to kill you now. I feel that I wish to help you. Why I do, I know not, but nevertheless, that is my thought. Tell me now your name creature and perhaps I will tell you mine. Tell me of your love and how it was that you lost her, that we might find a way to retrieve her."

He was genuinely moved by her kindness. “We doesn’t remember our name." he replied sadly. “We are Gollum now. And we have no precious."

Ethuiel moved a bit closer to him and sat upon the ground. “You must remember. You should not go about with such a name any longer. What did your mother call you? Surely you remember your own mother."

The mention of his mother brought the memory of his grandmother into his mind and he suddenly became angry. “She doesn’t care about us! Never cared! Nasssty, nasssty wretch! We don’t wants to think of her. Hates her! We hates her very much!"

Ethuiel was startled by his venom. “We need not discuss her then." she said trying to ease him, but he had been provoked and he went on.

“‘Sméagol!'" she said to us, "‘Leave my house and my land, and NEVER COME BACK!' She cast us out! We were so young. We needed her then, yes; needed her very much." Then his eyes grew dim and sad again. He looked as an amputee, who has just received a grim reminder of his loss by its occasional, maddening itch.

In her mind, Ethuiel was certain that he had been cast out for good cause, but how ever it had happened, she sympathized with him. She knew only too well how it was to be suddenly torn from all one loved and needed. Somehow, she felt a peculiar bond with him. They could have an understanding between them, she felt sure. She again attempted to change the tone of the conversation.

“There now, see! You have remembered! You are Sméagol. It is a fine name, ‘Sméagol,' it suits you well." Sméagol showed his unnerving smile. She had given him a compliment--a real one. He did not remember if he’d ever received one previously. “Tell me then Sméagol; tell me of your beloved."

In his heart he wanted to tell her, but found that he could not. He tried to find another topic. He did not wish to offend or make her angry. Not because he feared her, he no longer did, but because he honestly wished to stay and speak with her longer. For a moment, he forgot all about the Company bearing his precious away from him. He said, “There are tasty fishes in your river. Allow us to fetch you one. Sméagol is a crafty fisher, yessss, crafty he is! Lovely, fat fishes there are. Are you hungry uhhhh..." He did not yet know her name.

She chose to tell it to him. “Ethuiel. I am Ethuiel, daughter of Ecthelion. I am the Archer of Gondolin, a captain of Lothlórien, and a champion to Galadriel, Lady of Light." Sméagol had indeed heard, and remembered, the story of Ecthelion and the fall of Gondolin. Everyone knew that tale. He knew also that the name of Ecthelion had been a war cry of the Eldar. He was amazed at his company and all the more touched at her kind attentiveness.

Ethuiel was suddenly deep in thought. It was the first time she had spoken the name of her father without sorrow. It was the first time she had ever spoken of all that she was aloud, and to her deep astonishment, she felt proud. Under her hood she wore an awkward, little smile. The little creature was cunning indeed. He had managed to distract the Elf from her query.

Then she realized that she was, in fact, hungry; quite hungry indeed. She had not eaten in nearly two days, so she allowed Sméagol to fish for her. It did not take him long before he returned with two nice looking fish. He even waited for her to clean and cook hers before he devoured his own. His manners somehow bothered her less than they had before. She offered him lembas from her pack and he took a small bite. It was clear that he did not care for it even slightly, but he chewed it and swallowed all the same. He declined to take more. “It is entirely your option!" She said to him with a laugh.

The two ate and talked. Each time the Elf tried to inquire about his mission, he managed to find a way to steer the conversation aside. Behind the mantle of clouds, the sun climbed and rode the sky westward. Sméagol told her his riddles and she sang him her songs. He delighted in the exquisite beauty of her Elven voice. He wished to see her face. As he wished it, a strong wind gusted and again blew Ethuiel’s hood from her head.

For a moment Sméagol sat staggered by her loveliness. Then, abruptly, he began to laugh in a high, screeching cackle and he rolled upon the ground. Ethuiel shot him a stern glance and said, “What it is that you find so amusing, I know not, but if you care at all for me you shall explain at once, for I am feeling rather cross with you now."

When he finally stopped laughing enough to make himself understood he told her his mind between choking gasps of hilarity. “If you only knew! If _they_ only knew! This is the hideous, fierce Archer of Gondolin! ‘He’s got six bows and twelve arms to nock them!' they said to us, yesss!" He fell onto his back in a laughing fit, but finally continued. “Not only is _he_ not a _he_ , but a beauteous _she_! And small too, yes very small for her kind at that! This is the monster they fear! Don’t you see how it is so funny, Ethuiel?"

Ethuiel was glowering at him with anger, for she mistook his meaning. “You find me comical do you? Well, would you like to hear a tale that will make it clear to you that the monster they fear is a monster indeed?" Sméagol stopped laughing and stood motionless before her. She gave a tremulous sigh and began. “My guardian left me at the start of the second age. I had sworn an Oath to seek vengeance against the Evil One and his servant, Sauron, the Dark Lord for all that they had stolen from me. I did not know how much more I would allow them to take in so doing." Sméagol shrank in horror at hearing the the name of his former torturer.

“I wandered the wilds of Middle Earth hunting the orcs they had made. I killed all that I saw and it was a deep delight to my heart. I did naught but eat, rest and kill; the latter more oft than the others, to be sure. My grace of immortality allowed me to pursue my fascination for thousands of years, without great consequence to my body. But the spell it cast upon my heart, I did not know—until it was far too late. All I felt at that time was pain and hate. It did not hinder me though for I had become quite accustomed to it.

“It was five hundred odd winters ago when my own wrath nearly carried me away beyond The End. One night I was stalking a small band of Orcs in southern Mirkwood. Six there were, or so I thought. When I felt sure I could take them by surprise and best them, I loosed upon them a rain of darts. When all six lay dead or dying I approached, as I always did, to gloat at them and take my-- _cavernous_ \--satisfaction.

“As I drew near them, a seventh, who had been following silently behind them, caught up. I turned only in time to see him spring. He swiftly got his hands upon me and threw me, effortlessly, into a tree. My bow flew from my hand in one direction; my quiver fell from my back in another. I still had my dagger, but the blow had been hard and I could not find my bearing in time to draw it before he was again upon me. He took hold of my cloak and lifted me, as if I were the very air, and threw me down to the ground, knocking the breath from my lungs. The earth whirled round in my eyes as a cyclone and he fell upon me with his hands about my throat.

“I felt consciousness leaving me and knew that my end was to be there; alone and friendless, at the hands of this evil spawn. All I could think of was that I did not want to lose my grace. I wanted to live—really live again. I wanted to feel joy just one last time.

“As he bore down with his hands, I felt the ground for anything with which to strike him. I found naught but leaves. I kicked and flailed to no avail; he was far too strong and he was full with deadly rage. He was atop my dagger, thus there was no hope of drawing it. I can only believe that at that moment, the spirit of Ecthelion stole into me that I might be spared.

“As I was dying, I pried my hands under the two smallest fingers on each of his enormous, grasping clutches. I got a firm hold and Sméagol, I did not merely break them; I broke them off. He shrieked with the pain and slid from my body. As I rolled away from him I caught my breath and drew my blade. I fell upon him and stabbed him so many times that his head and body went to wrack and ruin. The thoughts of life and joy that had just moments before filled my head were gone. I was giddy with murderous fury and flung parts of him into the air—laughing."

“It was then that I heard a faint moan. Apparently, I thought to myself, they were not yet all dead. I was correct. One of them still clung to his miserable life. I approached the dying fiend and stood above him expecting him to curse me and finally die. That, however, is not what happened. Do you know what he did, Sméagol?" He slowly shook his head. “He asked me—no, no, that is wrong. He _begged me_ , begged me for quarter. He said that he would renounce the Dark Lord and become a friend and servant to the Elves. He said that he would do my bidding always if I let him live and he said that he would worship the Valar and be healed in his soul. And do you know what? I believed him. I believe him still. In truth I am sure that I would have made the most unlikely friend possible with that wretch. He would probably have never left me, but do you know what I did dear Sméagol, hmmm?"

Sméagol again slowly shook his head and stared at her with pity. She unsheathed her dagger. As she did so the afternoon sun peeked out briefly from behind the clouds. Its rays and the blade shared an ephemeral kiss. “I took this very dagger, and slowly, I carved out his heart." She paused with tears streaming down her face and said in a wavering voice, “Then I took a bite. And I spat it in his dead face. He wished to live, as had I only moments before, but my hate would not give me freedom to grant it. It owned me."

Ethuiel removed her boot to show him the mark. “Do you see this scar?" She asked. He looked closely and saw there the scarlet stain that traced her foot and ended at the ankle. He nodded that he could. “That was the night that this scar climbed to my hip." she said, and a sob escaped her. Sméagol approached her and grasped her hand. She accepted it and held tightly to his. Deeply she stared into his pallid eyes. “It was when I shed my raiment to wash the blood from it and my body that I realized that I was dying. I felt then, and the lord Elrond agrees, that I was, very nearly, the only Elf in Middle Earth to die outside of battle; or in binding to a mortal and willingly accepting that fate." She composed herself and took another deep breath.

“I then heard my sweet mother’s voice come to me and bid me seek Galadriel. I, thankfully, headed her words. I have been with the Lady since, and she has helped me to tame my loathing, but not entirely. I was, until quite recently, still trapped by its strangling net. But my recovery is not yet complete. For many years I felt, for most, nothing stronger than simple like or dislike of varying degree. My hate, though, for the Orcs and all their kind was still well intact and I hunted them, to be sure, though with less fervor.

“Of late, I came upon an Elf that I had not encountered since before the curse took me. He fell in love with me, and he laid his heart bare. He prayed for my recovery nearly unceasingly, and his friends also prayed with him that I might be again made whole. They prayed intensely indeed, but sadly not intensely enough, for it only served to drain me of all without replenishing the vessel. Although I must admit to feeling more myself, yet different, since I have met you Sméagol." Ethuiel smiled warmly at him, but his head was bowed low.

Sméagol was thinking of his own sickness and horrible misdeeds. He lifted his eyes to her and spoke. “We wants to tell you about the precious." he whispered and his breath became labored with sorrow. “We wants to tell the truth now." She nodded her head to indicate that she was listening. “The precious belonged to Déagol. He was our friend and we—killed him for the precious. We thought it should be ours. It told us it should be ours. It wanted us, not _him_! It told us to kill him. IT MADE US KILL HIM! We squeezed out his life and took it from his hand. It told us to take Déagol’s body and throw it into the river, so that no one would know what we had done. We told them he had drowned and they believed us, Yesss, believed us they did."

He was trembling with guilt and anguish. It was the first time that Sméagol had allowed himself to think of what had really happened, let alone speak of it aloud, and he reeled with the realization that he had murdered his own cousin and only friend. With tearful resignation he continued. “Now the precious is lost, but it owns us and will not let us forget."

Ethuiel sat stunned for a moment. It was obvious that "the precious" was not what she had originally imagined. What ever it was, it had made him do what he would not, and it was clearly making him grievously ill. She struggled to refrain from recoiling—or judging him. She wanted to help him still. “Sméagol," she said in a quiet and sympathetic tone, “when I at last found the Lady of Light, I was a creature not so very different from yourself. I came to her a wretched, dying soul. She took me to her heart, though I had less than nothing to offer her." As she said this she felt a tremor in her heart, and a flicker of light, but then suddenly, she understood the blow that she had dealt her queen in abandoning her. She was overwhelmed by feelings of guilt. She had to go back. If he would come, she would take Sméagol with her. “Can you see what Galadriel has done for me? Do you see that I will yet be whole because of her love? She can help you Sméagol. I know that she can, and I know that she will. It is but for you to ask for freedom. Come thither with me now and we may both have hope."

Sméagol slowly shook his head. “Cannot be healed," he said, “never be—whole. We belong to the precious now. We will always belong to it." A sudden flash of anger and deceit came into his eyes and he stood erect and cried out, “AND NOW THE TRICKSY, TRCKSY HOBBITSES HAS IT! THIEVES! THIEVES THEY ARE!" He slumped back onto the ground, panting with distress.

With caution, Ethuiel approached him and sat down. She of course knew that he was speaking of the Hobbits in the company and was clearly following them. She was also quite certain that whatever the precious was, that it was somehow tied to the task to which they had been bidden. “Sméagol, you must tell me now, what is this ‘precious' and why does it torture you so?" She asked as delicately as she could.

He looked at her with icy lust in his face, but spoke nonchalantly. “A ring," he said. She shook her head in confusion. He grew angry with her ignorance and he rose once more and shouted at her. “ _The_ Ring, foolish Elf!" he cried, “THE ONE RING IT IS!"

Ethuiel narrowed her eyes for she was suddenly afraid of his words; and angry as well. “WHAT ONE RING?" She said through her clenched teeth. Sméagol began to mutter the verse that all knew so well:

“One Ring to rule them all. One Ring to find them,  
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness…”

“Bind them." Ethuiel finished his sentence. She whispered to herself in horror. She tried to struggle to her feet, but her knees were all that she could manage. If they truly had the One Ring, there was only one thing that they could be attempting; only one place to make that attempt. It struck her like a mace in a troll’s hand. They were going into Mordor; into the fires, the horrific fires of Mount Doom where the balrogs were conceived and the Ring was forged. She tried to cry out, but her voice was stuck in her throat. She breathed heavily; she was dizzy in her head. “Oh Elbereth." She managed to whisper. Then she had a vision of The Walkers, as captives in the tower of Barad-Dúr. In her mind she saw Legolas, a prisoner of the Dark Lord. This was not bearable, not possible. Ethuiel drew in as much air as her lungs would endure and sat up on her knees. “Ilúvatar!" She wailed out into the heavens. With that it happened.

A hot, searing Light enveloped her heart. It shot through her body and pierced her throat, her fingers, and her eyes. She felt the touch of The One upon the scarred foot. For a moment it took her breath completely and she felt that she might be dying at last. Finally, it threw her onto her back with a thud. As she lay trying to catch her breath, it came to her. She loved them. She loved them all; Galadriel and Celeborn, Elrond and Celebrían, Arwen, Aragorn, the Hobbits, Boromir, the Dwarf she loved dearly, and Legolas. Oh, Valinor and the earth--she loved him. Now he would never know. He was going into Mordor. He would not return.

She knew that she had no chance to catch them. They were far away by now, or so she thought. The truth was that they were not so far away. For the rest of that morning Legolas and Frodo felt the tow on their wills grow stronger with each stroke of the oars. They had both become heart-sick and the company was forced to stop to speak to them and to soothe them. Unfortunately, it only allowed Gollum the opportunity to find their path once more.

Ethuiel turned and said, “Follow if you will Sméagol!" But to her chagrin, he was gone. As she had lain upon the ground, gasping for breath, he slipped back into the water and left her. “Wicked fool!" she muttered to herself. “He cannot hope to find them now any more than I can." She gathered her gear and ran back toward Lórien.  
***  



	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After surviving the fall of Gondolin, Ethuiel, one of the inhabitants of this once magnificent city, swears vengence against the Evil One and his servant, Sauron. After nearly two ages in pursuit of retribution, she is still not satisfied. The cost of her enduring hatred and sorrow is great indeed. When she meets the remainder of the Fellowship in Lothlorien it becomes clear to all, to Legolas in particular, that the time has come for Ethuiel to heal and to mourn no more. Recognizing good advice and abiding it, however, are two exceedingly different things. Warning: A large part of the premise of this story may be considered AU--the rest is all canon! Also, there are moments of sensuality, but nothing too overt.

For two days and nights she sprinted without rest; weeping as she ran, but full with light and love. At last she reached the southern boarder of the Golden Wood and called out to the Lord and Lady. “Please forgive me my queen," she cried, “do not cast me out now, for I am at last healed! Celeborn, my king, I am whole! My love burns now white upon my hand to change the hue of all else that lingers there!"

She fell to her knees and wept. As she did, a troop of the guard came out from the trees to retrieve her; Rúmil and Haldir among them. When they drew near her she lifted her eyes to them. The light they saw there was, to them, no less than that of the Silmarilli and an answer to the reverent prayers they had said for her. Rúmil lifted her from the ground, his eyes wet with joyful tears. “Most overjoyed am I to catch you now sister," he whispered in her ear. He laughed with delight through his tears and said, “Did I not tell you so!" Ethuiel clung to him in a warm embrace.

They walked with her to Caras Galadon and to the giant mallorn of the Lord and Lady. The two were standing at the entrance as Ethuiel arrived. She stood motionless before them unable to speak or move. Galadriel too seemed paralyzed when she saw her beloved champion and friend healed at long last. At length Celeborn came forward and kissed her eyes. He embraced her strongly and held her out to behold her once more. With a blissful smile and voice he said to all, “Ah, but the blood of Ecthelion runs thick! And the sweetness of Sílriel lives on as well!" He looked to the sky and spoke once more. “We praise you, Ilúvatar for this blessing," and he made a gesture of humble gratitude to the western heavens.

As Celeborn stood aside, the eyes of Ethuiel and the Lady met again. Ethuiel then rushed to her queen and they embraced with tears of love and gladness. The champion, though, then became distressed as she spoke to her Lady, “I am sorry only that my revival comes now, at the end of our days in Lothlórien. Also I fear that it is moot, for now my dearest love is gone into Shadow. Is this a penalty that I must pay for all my years of rage and late recovery?"

A voice came from the staircase of the palace. It sounded frail and weary, yet it spoke with courageous conviction. “No, dear Archer, daughter of mighty Ecthelion. You pay no price for tardiness. Tardy you are not. It is simply that this was the only way by which you could be whole, and this is simply how long it took. The One extracts no such payment from His children."

With that, Ethuiel turned to find the owner of the voice approaching her. Clad in robes of white, the light surroundeding him, was Gandalf. He drew her near him and wrapped her in his raiment. In his arms, she wept, for the grace of The One was in him. For three days and nights thereafter, Gandalf and the Elves of Lórien prayed for the triumph and safe return of the Company from Rivendell; and for strength and hope as well.  
***  



	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After surviving the fall of Gondolin, Ethuiel, one of the inhabitants of this once magnificent city, swears vengence against the Evil One and his servant, Sauron. After nearly two ages in pursuit of retribution, she is still not satisfied. The cost of her enduring hatred and sorrow is great indeed. When she meets the remainder of the Fellowship in Lothlorien it becomes clear to all, to Legolas in particular, that the time has come for Ethuiel to heal and to mourn no more. Recognizing good advice and abiding it, however, are two exceedingly different things. Warning: A large part of the premise of this story may be considered AU--the rest is all canon! Also, there are moments of sensuality, but nothing too overt.

After the three days of prayer, Gandalf took his leave of Lothlórien and the Lady. He set out to find the Walkers and continue on the Quest, but before he went he sought out Ethuiel and spoke to her once more. Still she was reeling with distress for all the Company and of course, her beloved Legolas; but Gandalf told her thus, “Your worry, my dear, is not unfounded, and it may be that your love is lost even now. But if I find him well, or otherwise, I will send you word.

"Take heart now warrior, for that is what you are. Much peril lies before this land. Your bow, your mind and your ineffable light of love will be required in their fullest form. If the Quest is to be successful, you must play your part here. You must protect this land and your Lady though I feel it shall be a great and loathsome task; most importantly, Ethuiel you must never again allow the light in your eyes and your grace to go dim. Until your last breath leaves you, you must safeguard that; for that is what we are all fighting for in the end." He kissed her forehead and she walked with him to the boarders of the wood.

Before they had said their farewells, Ethuiel pulled from her pack a small envelope addressed to Legolas. “I knew that you would be seeking him." she said. “Should you find him, whatever his state, please give him this that he should not carry his own love without mine for company." Gandalf smiled and took the letter. He placed it in his robe and was off.  
***  
Gandalf had been correct in his predictions. Lórien was indeed in great peril. Thrice did the Nazgûl with their monstrous hordes attack the Golden Wood in the following days. The battles were fierce and bloody, but in the end the Galadrim repelled the assaults and the Wood and the Lady were kept safe.

When Gandalf had at last found the three in Fangorn, he gave the envelope to Legolas and said, “I was bidden to give you this so that you might be--heartened." He chuckled at his own pun. Legolas returned a sheepishly perplexed grin as he took the correspondence from his hand.

He sat upon a rock and carefully and examined the silver script on the envelope. He had no doubt as to who had sent it, but feared to open it all the same. He looked up at his companions who had followed him. Gandalf smiled and nodded for him to open it. Carefully he slid his dagger beneath the sealing wax and broke it. When he reached in, he found a small piece of parchment, yellowed and cracking with extreme age. Upon it were the faded, little drawings and doodles of a child. In the middle of the birds and stars and rainbows that were there, in the hand of a child was written, _“Ethuiel melethan Legolas"_.

In that moment of ecstasy, the strength of one hundred Elves entered the body of Legolas Greenleaf, and from that moment until the end of that horrendous War, that strength never left him. He fought with a grace and stamina not seen in any since the fall of valiant Ecthelion. Legolas the Elf had fought for the Free Peoples of Middle Earth. He had fought for life and truth; he had fought for beauty, wisdom and joy. Now there was yet another reason for him to carry on the battle with yet more strident resolve; one that was more to him than all of the others. Legolas Greenleaf now fought to free his hands from the instruments of war forever. Every dart he nocked thereafter was set with the knowledge that if his aim was true, the Archer of Gondolin would lay aside her bow, and give her hands into his.

fin

***

 

 

Translation:

_“Ethuiel melethan Legolas"_ \- "Ethuiel loves Legolas"  



	13. Preface

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After surviving the fall of Gondolin, Ethuiel, one of the inhabitants of this once magnificent city, swears vengence against the Evil One and his servant, Sauron. After nearly two ages in pursuit of retribution, she is still not satisfied. The cost of her enduring hatred and sorrow is great indeed. When she meets the remainder of the Fellowship in Lothlorien it becomes clear to all, to Legolas in particular, that the time has come for Ethuiel to heal and to mourn no more. Recognizing good advice and abiding it, however, are two exceedingly different things. Warning: A large part of the premise of this story may be considered AU--the rest is all canon! Also, there are moments of sensuality, but nothing too overt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

That which is truly valid requires no defense. Since validity is relative, I think that this work does perhaps need a defense. It is a story of love, hate, death and war. Hits all the posts, no? I mean what do you really have if you don't include all that stuff in a story? I don't know, maybe a really good story.

Maybe I have one too. It is a bit, shall we say, errrrrrr--canonically stretchy? Yes, that's it. Canonically stretchy. If you can suspend your disbelief in the interest of reading this work, fabulous! If not, the author begrudges you nothing. In this work, Legolas of Mirkwood and Legolas of Gondolin are the same person. I realize that most people don't see it that way, but there is a possibility, however _wafer thin_ (insert French waiter from "The Meaning of Life" No, really! Try it. It's fun!) it may be, that this is the case. In any event, whether it was Tolkien's intention that they were the same Elf or not, they are in this story. Please understand that I mean no disrespect to the Professor's work in creating it so. Know also that I have gone to great lengths to be certain that the rest of the tale follows Tolkien's timelines and characters perfectly.

I do hope you will enjoy the little tale of love, hate, death and war that I've created. If you positively hate it, tell me so! I need all of the legitimate criticism I can get; barring that I'll take _whatever_ criticism I can get! :)

Lasbelindi

P.S. There is very little Sindarian in this piece. There are, however, a few sentences. The reader may want to take a peek at the end of the chapters before beginning. This way one will not be jarred out of the text to seek a translation in the middle. Now that I think about it, I'll tell you which chapters they are. There are translations at the bottom of chapters 3,4,5,8, and 9. The others have no Sindarian. Thank you. I'm really going this time.


End file.
